Broken Bird
by Obvious Pseudonym O'Flaherty
Summary: The ninja world has broken Kakashi Hatake again and again, doing more damage than some might think possible for a child to endure. So one night, the boy makes a desperate bid to escape. (Content warning, it gets pretty dark)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey guys, this struck me as conceptually interesting, so I wrote it out. See what you think.**

* * *

 **First came Sakumo:**

The young boy came in through the door with a rare skip in his step. "I'm home!" The boy called out, wiping off his sandals on the brush mat before slipping them off and heading inside. Kakashi was happier than he had been in some months, at least since the onset of his father's depression, maybe even since mom had left.

The boy had good reason to be happy. Today had been the day when he received his final scores for his first half-year in the academy. He was top of the class, of course, and more than willing to point that out to anyone who would listen: teachers, other students, even passers-by on his way home. The person that Kakashi wanted to share the news with most, however, was his father.

Since mom had left and everyone had started looking at Sakumo like he had betrayed them, one of the only things truly able to break his depression was how well his son was doing at the academy. The boy knew, or at least hoped, that these test results would be enough to get two, maybe even three days-worth of smiling out of his father before the perpetual melancholy sank back into place.

"In the bathroom," came Sakumo Hatake's voice after a few moments silence. "…How was your day?" The voice sounded strange, odd pauses were spread through the phrases where they didn't belong and his tone, instead of his usual despondency, was filled with a wistful melancholy. If Kakashi didn't know better, he'd have said that his father was in a good mood.

"You won't believe what happened at school today!" The silver haired boy raced into the small family bathroom… and stopped dead. Sakumo Hatake sat in the bathtub, warm water running across his skin as the bath filled, near half full with liquid. Sakumo was naked, but that was unsurprising, one rarely bathed while clothed, and a small part of Kakashi's brain noted that, had Sakumo been dressed, the blood would probably have stained the cloth rather badly.

Long, neat slits drew their way across Sakumo's forearms, oozing blood at an unsettling rate. The cuts were neat, clean. Kakashi could tell his father's hand had not wavered even once when he made them. Kakashi stood in the doorway, staring down at his father, shell-shocked. Tears welled unbidden from the corners of the boy's eyes and streamed their way down his cheeks as he drew in a deep breath that seemed to shake its way through his very soul.

"Ahh, yeah," Sakumo said quietly, smiling sadly at his son's reaction. "Sorry you had to see this, little one, I wasn't expecting you home for another hour. Don't you have your taijutsu extension class on Thursdays?"

Kakashi gaped down at his father, the water around him steadily turning redder and redder, and shook his head, barely conscious of his own movements. "N-no taijutsu practice today. It's the end of term… A-are you dying… Dad?"

Sakumo gave his son a look of utter, soul destroying weariness, before nodding. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "I am."

Kakashi tried to take it like a man, to simply be brave and nod and move on like it was nothing. He really did try. The little boy gave a tiny, shaky little nod before letting out a strangled sob as his composure broke. The boy brought his hands to his face as he began to weep, letting his sorrows out for the world to hear.

Sakumo watched his son cry, laying his head against the rim of the bathtub; strange, he didn't seem to have the energy to lift it any more. "Now now, little one," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard between the boy's moans. "It's okay, I'm going because I want to, okay?" Kakashi let out one last quiet whimper, wiping at his eyes with a sleeve before, with great effort, looking at his father stony faced and giving a small nod. "Thank you, Kakashi," the bleeding man murmured, his eyes slowly drifting closed. "Now, why don't you sit down next to your old man and tell him what had you so excited when you came in."

Kakashi nodded, sniffling, and moved forward to sit down next to his father's bathtub. The silver haired boy began murmuring quietly, his voice cracking occasionally, explaining his grades to his father.

Kakashi didn't know exactly when his father passed away; he only knew when Sakumo stopped talking back to him when he spoke. The boy tried to ignore it, filling the more and more obvious silence with words until he was repeating himself again and again just to fill it. He kept going until he was practically shouting, words tumbling over themselves as he tried to maintain the pretense. The medical ninja found them both before too long.

* * *

 **Then came Obito:**

The eight year old opened the door to his tiny apartment with numb fingers. The perpetual winter rain had chilled through every layer of his uniform, rendering him cold to the very bone.

The moment the door was closed, the boy began to strip out of his sodden uniform, leaving his mask on in honor of the promise he had no intention of breaking today, the young ninja moved in search of a towel. He didn't find one.

Heading towards the small drawer where he kept his spare towels, Kakashi caught sight of the small picture frame that sat atop it. Three kids, one silver haired boy noticeably shorter than the other two, and their yellow haired teacher. Kakashi had seen the photograph a hundred times since it was taken, rarely sparing it more than a single glance as he got up from bed to ready himself for the day.

Now though, Kakashi stopped and stared at the image. The four figures in the picture were grinning, although, only Kakashi would ever know that, the mask had hidden his smiles well in those days. Kakashi's one open eye drifted towards the other boy in the photo, almost looking at him before, with a mental effort, Kakashi looked away again, why was he so angry all of a sudden?

Unbidden, Kakashi's gaze drew itself towards the image of the other boy. He had been a cheerful youth. Happy, especially for an Uchiha, and his grin had always been the most exuberant, the most open.

With a mental heave, Kakashi pulled his gaze away from the picture, trying vainly to calm the emotion rising within him. With a deliberate effort, Kakashi forced himself towards the bathroom, hoping perhaps to find a towel there instead.

The moment he opened the door, Kakashi realized his mistake. The bathroom mirror sat at an angle, pointed towards the doorway so that the first thing Kakashi saw when he entered the room was his own face, marred by a deep scar, barely healed. By instinct, Kakashi's left eye flew open at the shock and he saw his sharingan in sharp relief, reflected in the crystalline surface. Obito's eye.

Kakashi squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the door closed with a slam, panting heavily despite his lack of exertion. What was wrong with him today? The boy took a long, deep breath, before allowing his right eye to open once again. Unfortunately for him, in blindly stepping backwards out of the bathroom, Kakashi had placed himself once more within sight of the team photograph. Unbidden, Kakashi's gaze went directly to his teammate's grinning face.

Kakashi wasn't ready, he had nothing to filter this with. The boy took another deep breath, trying to force himself to calm. He stepped deliberately forwards, looking straight at Obito's smiling face in the picture, trying to force himself to accept it through sheer force of will.

Kakashi couldn't explain later why he punched the photograph, shattering the frame and driving small shards of glass into his knuckles at the impact. Nor could he explain why he kept punching, driving the torn photograph into the wall and pinning it there with the force of his blow, before launching another punch that left a dent in the sturdy wood of his home. The boy let out an angry yell as he drove his fists again and again into the apartment wall, slowly tearing both the picture, and his own hands to bloody shreds as he pounded again and again at the old timber. After what could have been whole hours, or just minutes, the boy sank to the ground, spent. He clutched his face in bloody hands so cold that he couldn't even feel the damage he had done them, and howled his desperation into the night.

* * *

 **…Rin:**

Kakashi had saved his father's knife. Initially, it had been a reminder, just a simple way to remember not to make his father's mistakes. The twelve year old let out a small chuckle. It was a reminder he had utterly failed to live by lately.

Kakashi wondered what his five year old self would have done if he'd seen what he would become, what would he have said? The silver haired ninja gave a perfunctory chuckle when he realized he didn't care.

The boy finished stripping off his clothes and sat himself down in the bath, turning on the tap and letting the warm water flow over him. He had always hated baths, ever since his father's death, opting for showers by preference. But now, in his current mindset, the water felt kind of nice as it washed over him.

Kakashi closed his eyes and picked up his father's knife, holding the tip just a hair's breadth over his wrist. He felt his hand shaking just a little, and berated himself inside, that wasn't how it was done.

Taking a deep breath, Kakashi pushed the blade into his wrist, letting the knife sink deep into the vein. The pain was intense, as was the fear, and it took everything Kakashi had not to waver. The twelve year old opened his eyes, gazing down at his shaking wrist and the stream of solid red that flowed down from it. The sight froze him solid.

Gazing down at his wrist, the mildly blunted blade still protruding from it as deep crimson freely flowed, Kakashi Hatake began to laugh, he wasn't sure why. Filling his lungs, the boy did it again, cackling out his laughter throughout the empty apartment. There was no amusement in it, not quite sadness either, just laughter.

The sound of the front door crashing open stirred Kakashi from his reverie. Someone was coming to stop him, he had to be quick. The boy yanked the knife down, the dull blade parting deep, half cutting, half ripping. The pain was extraordinary, and the boy screamed, dragging the blade wide off course, digging raggedly through the flesh of his arm before, with a flash of yellow, his hand was yanked away from the blade. Before Kakashi even had time to register what was going on, Minato had already begun to bind his injuries, wrapping them in a thick, anesthetic drenched gauze. The blonde haired ninja had tears in his eyes as he moved to forcibly restrain his single remaining pupil, holding him close as he carried the boy out of the apartment, a towel hurriedly thrown around him for some small preservation of his modesty.

"Come on, Kakashi," the Fourth Hokage said quietly. "Why don't you come stay with me and Kushina for a while, okay?"

Kakashi, his attempt at freedom thwarted, gave a small nod of assent as he wept against his teacher's shoulder.

* * *

 **…Kushina and Minato:**

Kakashi sat at his desk in the small room Kushina and Minato had set aside for him, utterly kind, as in all things, in the accommodations they had made for him to live with them. The thirteen year old held a pen poised above a small, blank sheet of paper.

Thinking back, Kakashi remembered the day his father had made him promise to wear a mask; his old man's words that day still struck a chord with him, even now.

"Do you know why a ninja can never retire?" Sakumo had asked, gazing absently up at the rafters one evening.

"Why?" The boy had asked, still at an age where every word from one's father was precious wisdom to be gathered.

"Because people out there know their faces," Sakumo had said simply. "There is no escaping your village when someone knows your face, and the way shinobi live, they have a habit of making enemies out there in the world. So answer me this, Kakashi, why don't they wear masks?"

The little boy gave it some thought, his face scrunching up in effort as he worked through the problem. "Umm… because no one could manage to wear a mask the whole time?" The child tried. His father gave a light chuckle.

"Not quite, little one," he murmured. "For a ninja, something like that isn't too much of a challenge. No, the truth of it is, little Kakashi, that most ninja never expect to retire. This job kills too many of us off." The silver fang of the leaf gazed across at his son, watching as the boy mulled this all over in his mind, picking the ideas apart with his unusually sharp little brain.

"Then why don't you wear a mask, daddy?" The boy asked eventually, gazing up at his father.

"Oh, I do," Sakumo said with a wry smile. "A very good one. Wanna see?"

Kakashi nodded eagerly, turning to face his father. The silver fang chuckled, then placed his hands together. With a small puff of smoke, the silver haired, slightly gaunt faced man disappeared, replaced by a brown haired, pale green eyed man with gentle features, looking quietly down at the boy. "Good mask, huh?" The man asked, his voice noticeably softer than the one Kakashi recognized. The boy nodded absently, staring at his father's true face for the first time.

Before too long, Sakumo began making hand-signs, a far more intricate variation than the simple transformation jutsu Kakashi was familiar with. With another rush of smoke, the silver fang returned, gazing down at the boy. Kakashi felt, even as he tried to hold them in his mind, as the images of his father's true face began to fade in his memory, blurring slightly so that, even mere seconds later, Kakashi would have struggled to pick his father's true face from a crowd.

The two sat in silence for a time, until Sakumo produced a small patch of cloth, holding it out to his son. "I want you to wear this from now on, Kakashi, until you're old enough for me to teach you to transform properly. Can you do that for your old man?"

Kakashi took the small cloth loop and gazed down at it, confused. "But… why would I want to retire, Daddy?"

Sakumo lay a hand gently on his son's shoulder. "One day, if you're as gentle a kid as I think you are, you'll get tired of being a ninja. I want you to have options when that happens."

Kakashi bristled at that. "I'm not gentle!" He protested. "I'm fierce! I'm a ninja!"

Sakumo chuckled at his son. "Yeah, of course you are."

Kakashi had worn a mask every day, whenever he wasn't alone and even, usually, when he was.

No one, not even Kakashi, had seen his face in years.

* * *

Kakashi stared down at the blank paper, his pen still hanging poised above it. He asked himself why this was taking so long. It wasn't as if this was the first goodbye letter he had written, nor the first time he had run away. Thinking back, his first goodbye note, written at the age of seven, the evening after his first kill, had been written in crayon.

Kakashi found that the more notes he wrote, the fewer words were needed. Less statements of friendship, fewer admissions of feeling. In this instance, Kakashi only wrote five words before laying the pen down atop the paper and standing to take his leave.

'Guy, look after my dogs.'

* * *

Jiraiya knew Kakashi well enough to predict that something would happen in the wake of Minato and Kushina's death, even if he wasn't entirely sure what. The toad sage was also experienced enough as a ninja that his grief at the loss of his friends did not dull him. As such, when the sirens began to blare at the village bank, Jiraiya made immediately for the only place he could picture Kakashi going.

* * *

The boy hated dark colors, he considered it a shame that so much of a ninja's job and, by extension, his life, necessitated them. Kakashi slipped through the third floor window of the hospital, a small satchel hung about his back, containing all the money the Hatake line was owed by the village. This was his second stop of the night. The boy blended with the shadows perfectly, shifting along walls and floors with fluidity that would make him hard to spot even if one were looking directly at him.

The young ninja made his way between the anonymously clad men and women guarding the small room where a lone child lay, monitors beeping quietly all around him. Kakashi made his way in and gazed down at the small boy, even now, not entirely certain that this was the right choice.

"What are you doing here, Kakashi?" The boy jumped, the deep, adult voice startling him half out of his wits. To his credit, he recovered fast.

"Jiraiya?" He asked, glancing around him, trying to identify the speaker's location and quietly wishing he'd brought along a weapon of some sort, but no, leaving unarmed had been too damned important to him, that need to make a statement. He began to berate himself internally for his stupidity when, casually as was possible for such things, Jiraiya faded into being in a shadowy corner.

"I repeat, Kakashi, what are you doing sneaking in to see Naruto like this?"

Kakashi glanced down at the newborn, snoring quietly through gentle little dreams. He thought back to his childhood, to his life, and thought of Naruto living all that in his place. He shuddered in revulsion at the thought, except, he knew, it would be worse for Naruto. The way the cover story was being set up, the boy was destined to be quietly hated, Kakashi could already see it. He returned his gaze to the Sannin, one of the few adults who remained alive that Kakashi genuinely respected, and opted for the truth.

"Everyone I ever truly cared about has died. I'm leaving here, Jiraiya. I… I just can't do this anymore." As he spoke, the boy fought to keep his voice steady, a single tear building up on his eyelid before swelling over and spilling down his cheek. There was a long silence.

Eventually, after what felt like an age. Jiraiya nodded. "Can't say I blame you," he murmured quietly. "For what it's worth, I wish you the best in life, Kakashi, I really do. You're a good kid."

Kakashi was stunned. He had expected rejection, stern rebuke, maybe even anger. What the old ninja was giving him instead… it seemed a lot like pity… sympathy? No. Jiraiya was too strong for that. The silver haired ninja shook himself, he wasn't done. "I'm taking Naruto with me."

To this, the older ninja gave a tired, sad sigh. "Ah, I thought you might come here to do that. I'm afraid I won't allow that, Kakashi. Not unless you can give me a reason."

Kakashi looked his teacher's teacher dead in the eye, utterly determined. "You know what the village has in store for him if he stays?" The Sannin nodded, not even blinking in the gloom. "And you know what this world does to people like us over time?" Another nod. "And you're willing to sit quietly and let it happen." Kakashi made the words an accusation, glaring across at the old man.

Jiraiya nodded, rising to his full, impressive height. "I have faith in the son of Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki. He is stronger than anything this world can throw at him. He can make it through all of that, and he can shine."

Quietly, Kakashi let his satchel drop to the floor, freeing himself to move as fast as his lithe body could manage. His hand began to glow with the trademark glimmer of his chidori. "My point," he said in a dangerous whisper. "Is that he shouldn't have to."

Kakashi charged, darting forwards with the prodigious speed matched only, to his knowledge, by Minato's. He held his chidori at the ready as he plunged it forwards, intent upon skewering his unexpected foe.

The boy felt a hand grasp his wrist, Jiraiya's other arm moving to intercept the luminescent blue glove that cloaked the boy's hand. With an inscrutable expression, the toad sage simply batted the chidori out of Kakashi's hand. The silver haired boy watched in horror as the crackling energy slowly dissipated into the empty air.

Jiraiya pulled the boy in close and turned him, pressing him hard against the wall. "That's unfortunate," he whispered sadly. "I really wanted to let you go, Kakashi, I really did. But no one survives attacking me, no one. Was it worth it? Trying to kidnap Naruto in front of me even though you knew you'd fail? Why didn't you just walk away?"

Kakashi squirmed in discomfort against the wall, struggling to turn his head so that he could look at the older man. "Yeah," he grunted. "That kid's the only precious thing I have left in the world. It was worth any risk to save him from this."

From the corner of his eye, his head still pressed against the wall, Kakashi saw the old man give him an appraising look. The two were silent for a very long few seconds. Eventually, Jiraiya stepped back, letting the silver haired boy drop to the floor, panting.

"Change your name," Jiraiya said quietly. "Kakashi Hatake died in the Kyuubi attack. So did Kushina's unborn son, Naruto."

Kakashi pulled himself to his feet and nodded, choosing at this point not to dwell on exactly how close to death he had just been. "Thank you, Jiraiya."

"Don't thank me," Jiraiya mumbled, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Just promise me you'll look after the kid, okay? He gets a better life than we did, a real childhood. Promise."

"I promise," said Kakashi without hesitation. "That's the whole point."

Kakashi moved to the child's bedside, cautiously picking him up and making preparations to move. The old man watched him quietly as he worked. "One more thing," Jiraiya said calmly. "When you find a place to settle, contact me. I want to be there for the kid and, let's be honest, I'm not trusting a mentally scarred thirteen year old to look after a baby."

Kakashi nodded and, without another word, carried the sleeping baby quietly from the room. The guards were unconscious as Kakashi passed them, presumably the Sannin's doing. Kakashi paid it no mind as he bore the child out into the night, spiriting him away from the leaf well before the sun rose.

* * *

 **AN: This idea seemed cool, so I wrote up an intro for it. I'll likely do more if I feel like it, although explicitly not on any particular schedule. This, presently, is more a proof of concept than anything else. If you liked it, feel free to favorite or review. The more feedback it receives, the more likely I am to continue it.**


	2. Chapter 2: Maigo Sabishi

**AN: Ok. Let's see where this goes.**

 **One week:**

The first step, for Kakashi at least, was to remove his scars. A simple problem in the broad scheme of things, medical ninja had mastered the art of rejuvenating flesh a long time ago; ever since it was noted that scars could impede performance, people had worked to solve the problem. The real issue, was finding a medical ninja who could be trusted to keep quiet about the whole thing. Kakashi had to dig into his professional knowledge and mission history to find someone suitable, a missing-nin who he knew from his ANBU days to be a specialist in helping people disappear. Kakashi took the step of engaging his services, followed by the additional step of ensuring that he would be the last person to ever do so.

The newly scar-free young man made sure to incinerate the corpse thoroughly. No use leaving something incriminating behind. The man had a fairly decent stash of equipment for forging new identities, which the boy took care to harvest thoroughly. A supply of fresh identities would be more than valuable for his peace of mind in the years to come.

His first task of his new life complete, Kakashi noticed that his companion was crying, and set off for the nearest town to find the boy a wet-nurse for the time being.

After ensuring that his ward was safe and fed, Kakashi set out once more in search of a decent shop, he needed to find some hair dye.

* * *

 **Six months:**

Tayumi was awoken, as had become a common pattern in recent weeks, by an insistent knocking on her front door. The woman groaned herself awake, glancing briefly at the clock on her bedside. _Five minutes to six, just like yesterday. How does that boy do it?_

Tayumi yawned expansively as she made her way slowly to the front door, stopping only briefly to slip on her nightgown as a cover to basic modesty. Tayumi considered going to the toilet, but she knew that if she took longer than three minutes, the boy would knock again. Grumbling quietly, the irritable landlady made her way to the front door where her newest tenant waited, his precious cargo bundled up warmly in his arms to guard against the wintery morning chill.

"Good morning, Miss Tayumi," the boy greeted her, not even a hint of tiredness anywhere on his features. Not surprising, Tayumi had no doubt the boy had been awake for hours already.

"Good morning, Maigo," she greeted the lad. "Ready for another school day, I take it?"

The boy nodded quietly, holding up his cargo for the woman to take. "I'm sorry to ask this again, but could you look after Menma till I get back? I don't have anyone else to leave him with."

Tayumi sighed, at this point unsurprised. "Yeah, sure. Come pick him up when you're done, okay?" The woman reached out carefully to take the boy from his brother's arms. Straightening, Tayumi gave the boy a long look. The teen squirmed slightly under her gaze, a fact that amused her very slightly. "You know, I don't think I know a single other child who goes to school all five days a week. Your parents must really care about your schooling."

Maigo raised hand to his head with an awkward chuckle, "Hehe, yeah, I guess they do."

"So," the older woman asked, gazing down at the boy. "Am I ever going to meet these mysterious parents of yours?"

The response came almost immediately, the same one she'd heard every time she asked the question. "They're-"

"Still out of town?" Tayumi interrupted, rolling her eyes a little. "I'll have to have words with them when they get back about leaving their kids alone for so long."

The youth gave another awkward little chuckle, running a hand reflexively through his short brown hair. From inside her house, Tayumi heard the chiming of her clock, alerting them both of the six AM alarm.

The boy took the opportunity to extricate himself from the conversation, stepping back from the door. "Well, thanks, Miss Tayumi. I'll be back for Menma later today and I'll have the rent money for you, too. Bye." With that, the boy was gone, running off towards the school a good hour and a half before classes were due to start.

Tayumi shook her head as she watched the confusing boy take his leave. It was turning out quite impossible to make heads or tails of that kid. Initially, Tayumi had suspected the boy might not actually be going to the school, after all, what kid had time to attend more than the mandatory three days a week of classes? But when she had asked the teachers, they had assured her that the boy was indeed attending the school every day, and achieving high grades, consistently the top of the class. When Tayumi asked what the boy was studying aside from the standard reading, writing and maths, be it agriculture, architecture, or perhaps some lesser sciences, the confused teacher had responded quite simply "all of them," seemingly just as nonplussed as she was. Even more confusing to her, the boy's parents hadn't shown themselves once in the two months since they left the boy here with his brother. Tayumi sighed, heading back inside to make herself a coffee and go to the toilet. That boy was plain confusing.

* * *

Kakashi groaned in frustration as he made his way to the school library. That woman, Tayumi, was getting nosy. It was becoming more and more apparent that he might once again have to take his leave and find a new place. He had to get better at keeping a low profile. Studying civilian disciplines was supposed to be a part of that, but in the here and now, it seemed only to be drawing additional attention to him.

A large part of the problem, Kakashi had to admit, was boredom. If he didn't make the attempt to fill his days with study and practice, he was left with nothing to do, and sitting still had this way of eating away at him. Kakashi was a product of a black ops lifestyle, that meant free time was sacrificed for the good of the village. Any moment that wasn't spent either on missions or training to better himself was to be spent familiarizing himself with the dossiers of every single individual of note that he could, just in case he came into contact with them some day. This left no space for hobbies, no time for the self and no real method, or indeed, inclination to spend any of the remarkably high wages the job allowed. Even though the ANBU was behind him, Kakashi still rebelled at the stagnation of sitting still, the concept utterly foreign to him.

Against his better judgement, the boy had consistently sought ways to fill his time, studying every available subject, blocking the doors and windows of his spartan apartment and training his shinobi skills in solitude for hours more than was necessary. It was hard to feel guilty about training though, he had a baby to protect, after all. The boy had truly tried to be normal, to find regular, ordinary ways to fill his time. He had tried developing a social life with other children, going to movies and engaging in conversations. But he found they had nothing to talk about. These were children who had never held a blade in their lives, and their tribulations ran the gamut between boring him senseless and making him want to beat them for their insufferable privilege. He had nothing to say to kids who weren't ninja. Kakashi had even tried playing sports once, a football game. The boy had needed to skip town that same evening before anyone came to ask questions.

Kakashi sighed, he liked this place, and it was vexing to need to relocate yet again, but he couldn't have the landlady getting suspicious.

Kakashi got to the school library and found himself something to write with. Sitting himself down in a quiet corner of the near empty building, the young man began to write.

* * *

' _To my dearest Jiraiya sensei. I read your latest work and found it, as is usual for your pieces, extraordinarily stimulating. So much so that I had to step outside once again to calm myself. I did as you suggested on our last meeting, and have begun writing a work of my own; although I am having difficulties making my characters seem real on close inspection without revealing their hidden depths. I don't know how you do it so well, sensei. Do you have any advice for a struggling young writer desperate to make her start in the world? It would be appreciated and rewarded, you know how grateful my sisters and I can be._

 _Speaking of my sisters, our youngest is doing well, she was wondering when you might stop in again. Maigo and Menma should be away for a little while in a few weeks; perhaps you could visit us then? You know how much we all enjoy your visits, they are so educational and we are so very desperate for more of your lessons._

 _Hungrily yours, Kasumi.'_

* * *

Kakashi read the note over a few times, making sure that the coded messages were easy enough to discern. It amused the boy that one of the most powerful individuals in the known world chose to send and receive his coded messages in the form of vaguely erotic fan mail. Although, he had to admit, it made sense. It didn't take much to realize that the old pervert would never get as lucky as "Kasumi" had insinuated, and so the messages would be easy to discern from regular mail. Kakashi also took quiet amusement in the fact that this method of communication forced Jiraiya to read through all of his fan mail, some of it undoubtedly weird and creepy, just to maintain communications.

Kakashi folded the paper neatly in half and, after a moment's consideration, produced a photograph from a small envelope he kept in his backpack. It was one of the more scantily clad of his collection. A selection of girls in swimsuits, enjoying their day at the spa. Kakashi allowed himself a small smile, it was genuinely amazing what women would allow from a cute, innocent looking youngster with a camera. He had amassed quite a collection of such photographs in his years, having started well before leaving the leaf village. The pictures had served well as bribes to his superiors at the village, from the third Hokage, to councilmen, to Jiraiya. If only Minato sensei had been so easy to manipulate. Now they served both as a tribute to Jiraiya, helping keep his mindset amenable, and as a way of identifying himself further as the sender. Kakashi carefully signed the back of the photograph.

 _'Me and my sisters! Kasumi.'_

For obvious reasons, this would serve to inform Jiraiya more explicitly that Kasumi didn't exist, the old perv would have remembered spending time with these girls.

The boy sighed, then placed the letter in an envelope. He would see it delivered when he finished his school day. The boy stood, stretching, and found himself a book to occupy his attention until the school day started.

It was nearly a week before Jiraiya sent his reply. Kakashi checked his letterbox on the way home from school one afternoon to find an unnecessarily pink envelope crammed inside with a large photo of Jiraiya's grinning face attached to the cover. The boy shook his head at his contact's ostentation, then went inside to read the missive. Sitting on the corner of his small bed.

* * *

 _'To my sweet Kasumi. I am delighted to hear of your sister's good health. Tell her I plan to visit as soon as my travels allow. Hopefully we can continue our lessons then. I have no doubts you'll be as enthusiastic and supple a student as ever. I may be seeing Menma and Maigo in the land of waves soon. If I have my itinerary straight, we are due to arrive at the same time. You may wish to tell that brother of yours to keep his money in his pocket this time, some people in the wave can play all kinds of games with your coin if you're not careful. With regard to keeping your characters realistic, I am afraid that what tricks I know, I have already taught you. You may find it gets easier with practice. If your aim is to keep them engaging and realistic, then I would suggest perhaps that it is not as massive an issue as you might think to give your audience the occasional glimpse of those "hidden depths" you mentioned, as long as the enigma remains merely an enigma and nothing more. As a writer, you may find it hard to retain your sanity if you are trying to keep the whole of their character bottled up for too long._

 _Yours lustfully. Jiraiya._

 _Ps: Next time I visit, make sure to have more oil than you did last time._

 _PPS: Like the photo, keep it sweet.'_

* * *

Kakashi read the letter carefully, then re-read it a few more times, trying to make sure he had the interpretation right. As far as the boy could tell, it read thusly.

* * *

 _Kakashi. I am glad to hear Naruto is well. I intend to check in soon and will see what I can do about furthering your tuition in person, provided you haven't gotten rusty. The two of you are to rendezvous with me in the land of waves. Bring the money you stole, there are facilities within the wave to launder it for you._

 _As for maintaining your assumed identities under scrutiny, you know as much as I do on that score, although maintaining a strong cover is a skill that can take time to develop proficiency in. That being said, perhaps you should not be trying quite so hard to conceal your abilities from people, as long as you don't show anything conclusive, you can get away with just being a talking point. Sadly, I doubt you are capable of hiding your true self completely, and the attempt would likely be harmful. Bear that in mind._

 _I'm a pervert. Jiraiya._

 _Ps: I'm a actually a **massive** pervert, with a disgusting imagination._

 _PPS: Nice bribe, keep em coming._

* * *

Kakashi tore up the letter and dropped the fragments in a glass of water. Burning them would have been faster, but it would produce smoke. In the end, making paper-mache out of them would destroy the evidence just as completely as fire.

Kakashi returned to his seat at the corner of his bed, watching Naruto as he playfully crawled across the cheap carpet, cooing happily to himself as he explored.

"Well, Menma," Kakashi said, still having to force himself to use the pseudonym out loud rather than the boy's true name, an issue that he suspected would ease with time. "Looks like we're moving on again. Guess it's the wave village this time, huh."

The baby looked up at him, eyes alight and mouth hanging open happily. The young Naruto plopped back on his rear and let out a cheerful coo of laughter. Kakashi snorted. "Yeah, I'm excited too."

* * *

The boy had to physically restrain himself from packing up and heading out under cover of darkness, reminding himself near constantly that providing an actual explanation for his departure would be bound to raise fewer suspicions.

In an attempt to be kind, Kakashi let Tayumi sleep in until eight o'clock the following morning. Eventually, he made the trip over and knocked on her door as he had every day for months. Almost immediately, Kakashi heard a loud scrambling from inside the dwelling, objects clattering to the floor accompanied by a suspiciously loud thump.

Tayumi flung the door open wide, fully dressed and looking panicked. The woman looked down at him, wide eyed. "Maigo!" She exclaimed, half distressed, half relieved. "Thank goodness, I thought something terrible had happened to you!"

Kakashi cocked his head to the side, confused. "What? Why?"

The woman stared at him. "You need to ask?" She murmured, shocked.

Uncertainly, Kakashi nodded.

"Five minutes to six," Tayumi spoke quietly, almost accusing. "Every morning, five minutes to six, ever since I've known you. But this morning, nothing. Where were you?"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at that. "Wait, really? You got this stressed out just because I didn't come over when I usually do?"

Tayumi shook her head, still somewhat distressed. "No, of course not. Naturally, I assumed you were sick, so I went over to your apartment to check in on you and it was practically empty. I thought you must have cleaned it out so you could run away or something, or that maybe you'd been kidnapped!"

Kakashi considered this, Tayumi's words were strange. He hadn't cleared the apartment out yet, his possessions were still mostly there. Granted, he hadn't really accumulated very much in the time since his arrival here, really just a notebook or two and some pens, but that was just because he liked to keep things Spartan. That wasn't too unusual, was it? Then he realized. _Oh right, I'm a kid. I'm supposed to want things._

Kakashi decided he needed to run some damage control, find a way to calm Tayumi down. "Umm… sorry to stress you out," the boy mumbled quietly, affecting a tone of apology. "I was in the school library this morning, reading." Tayumi nodded, still breathing rather heavily. The boy decided to fabricate a little bit to make himself seem a little more normal. "And yeah, I did pack up most of my stuff earlier. My parents contacted me, told me their work's taking longer than they expected and I should go join up with them. I'm moving out."

Tayumi gazed at the small boy for several moments, still seeming just a little uncertain, before walking off into one of the rooms of her house and returning with a small sheet of paper and a pen. In tiny writing, she scrawled _'Are you okay? Is someone making you say this?'_

The boy, of all the reactions he could have chosen, laughed. "It's okay, Miss Tayumi, really, I'm fine. I just came here to hand over the last week's rent and let you know the place is vacant again."

The woman gave Kakashi a long, piercing look, as if she was trying to glean the truth from the very centre of him; then, with a deep sigh, murmured "Okay, you be careful, Maigo."

"I will, Miss Tayumi," the boy murmured. "Thank you." He took a few steps back, turning to head back towards his apartment when the lady spoke again.

"You can come back here any time, you got that?" Kakashi stopped dead, taking a few long moments to fix a smile to his face before he turned to face her. He had heard her approach, but had not expected the hug. Tayumi wrapped her arms around the boy tightly for several moments. Kakashi was not sure how he felt at that moment.

"Yeah, thank you," he managed, before turning back the way he came and walking off, a little faster than he had to. _Strange,_ the boy thought humorlessly to himself as he wiped a small trail of moisture from his cheek. _Must have something in my eye._


	3. Chapter 3: A night in the Land of Waves

**AN: This sentence only exists for formatting purposes. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 **Waves:**

The village of waves was cold in the night this time of year, springtime mists flowing in off the waters and nearby forests and coating the houses with a thick blanket of cloying damp. Other than that, however, it seemed a relatively nice place. The buildings were large, sturdy and uniformly well maintained. A nearby harbor boasted numerous ships, each bearing the flags of a merchant crew or fishing vessel. All in all, the place seemed cheerful and prosperous.

 _And yet,_ Kakashi considered, sitting on a short cliff-side that overlooked the area. _This place feels… off, unsafe. Maybe it's because the place is so close to the hidden mist. Maybe it's because the weather reduces visibility. Hell,_ the boy chuckled. _Maybe I'm just being paranoid._

Kakashi felt the attack coming more by instinct than by any real sensory input, ducking down as some unseen object whistled past and scooping the linen wrapped Naruto up to his chest protectively. The boy turned, scanning the surrounding area intently. Nothing. Kakashi momentarily cursed the loss of Obito's sharingan. The powerful eye would have made identifying his foe a simple endeavor. Still, he knew it had been necessary. A glass eye was far easier to hide than a permanently active sharingan. Kakashi took the briefest of moments to consider his options. He could try and stand his ground, facing an unknown foe he couldn't see and carrying a baby in one arm, or he could run.

Kakashi jumped backwards off the cliff without hesitation. Dropping a good ten meters and landing in a crouch to absorb the fall before turning and running towards the village proper at a dead sprint. If he was lucky, his pursuers wouldn't be able to catch up before he found a suitable bar or crowd to lose himself in.

Kakashi made it nearly half way to the town before a hand grasped hold of his shoulder, stopping his momentum dead. "Jeez, kid, were you always this fast?"

 _Wait,_ Kakashi recognized that voice. _Jiraiya?_ The boy relaxed immediately.

"Old man," the boy grunted angrily, turning to face the taller ninja. "You just very nearly gave me a heart attack. What the hell did you attack me for?"

Jiraiya chuckled. "Had to make sure you weren't getting soft, little man. Retirement does that to people sometimes. Besides, I didn't attack you," The older man pointed a finger towards a pair of figures approaching through the fog. "They did."

As the pair approached, Kakashi took careful stock of them both, not entirely liking the idea of Jiraiya bringing new people in on his secret. The first of the two was a tall woman, blonde and, by appearances at least, in her early twenties. There was something in the way she carried herself though, Kakashi noted, that hinted she might be older; a telltale restraint to her movements, a consuming caution one rarely saw in ninja less than thirty. The second new arrival was a girl, by appearances, around Kakashi's own age. Both newcomers were panting very slightly.

"Holy crap, you're fast," the blonde woman commented as she approached. "If we hadn't placed Jiraiya here to intercept you, we'd have lost you in the village before we ever caught up."

Kakashi did a quick run through of his dossier readings. _An associate of Jiraiya, female, well endowed, older than she looks._ _Ahh, Lady Tsunade. So that means the girl with her must be-_ "Madame Shizune," Kakashi murmured respectfully, extending a hand to the girl. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the only other person my age to rival my track record."

The girl, whether surprised or not, concealed it well, taking the proffered hand and shaking it. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied politely. "The only kid I know of who rivaled me was Kakashi Hatake, and he died recently, I'm afraid."

"Ah, of course," Kakashi chuckled. "My mistake. I'm Maigo, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Maigo," the dark haired girl replied with a slight smile.

"Oi," came a gruff voice from Jiraiya, reminding Kakashi that there were indeed others present. "Stop flirting, you two. We have a mission to discuss."

"Before that," Kakashi interrupted. "I have to ask, why did you bring these two in on this?" He turned his head to the slug sage briefly. "I mean no offence, of course, Lady Tsunade, but surely the secret is better kept by telling fewer people."

Jiraiya shook his head. "It's not just about keeping the secret, Maigo," he replied. "It's about making sure Menma here gets a good life, no matter what. Now, I may be a Sannin, but I'm not invincible. I can die just like anyone else. I told Tsunade about what was going on so that you and the kid would have more than just a single contact backing you up here. A precaution."

Kakashi considered this for a moment, then, grudgingly, nodded. "Yeah, okay, makes sense." He turned his head quickly to the two women. "Thank you for coming, both of you."

Shizune nodded solemnly in recognition. Tsunade, for her part, extended a hand. "Let me see the kid. I want to make sure he's doing all right."

Kakashi hesitated for a moment, cautious about handing over Naruto to anyone but himself, least of all another ninja, but eventually relented. Tsunade took the thickly swaddled baby and began to examine him, a hand pressed gently to the soft skin of his head, glowing a faint green.

Kakashi watched anxiously, distinctly nervous about handing over Naruto to this stranger, however trustworthy she might be. As much to distract himself as anything else, he voiced the question that had been nagging at him since he received Jiraiya's letter. "So," he started. "Why the wave village, Jiraiya? Surely there're a bunch of places where I could launder my money, aren't there? Why did we have to come so close to the blood mist village?"

The old man shrugged. "Yes and no. There are some complications with the money that mean we need to be careful how we do this."

Kakashi cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of complications?"

Jiraiya sighed. "Well, Maigo, I had to tell some pretty complicated lies to keep your escape a secret. The official story is that you died keeping the nine-tails away from Konoha and Menma here was never even born. The unofficial story is that you snapped after Minato died and tried to escape after killing his son, forcing me to kill you myself before backup arrived. Unfortunately, that version of things left it so that I was the last person who ever saw where all that money you took went. I replaced it with some from my personal funds, but the fact remains that the village leaders think I'm in possession of that marked money you're carrying. That means we have to be careful how we get rid of it." The middle aged ninja took a breath while Tsunade handed Naruto back to his guardian, seemingly satisfied, before continuing.

"Because the leaf thinks I kept the money for myself, they assumed I must have some reason for holding on to a supply of traceable funds. So while yes, you could launder this money in bits and pieces wherever you wanted, doing so would blow my cover completely. We need to get rid of the money in a way that directly benefits the leaf village and at a time and place where my presence cannot be disproved to the higher ups. Otherwise, they might ask how I was spending money in the wave village when I was provably in the leaf. Our mission here, Maigo, is to break into the home of a corrupt shipping magnate and quietly swap our traceable money with an equal amount of his untraceable money. That way, you and I are free and clear, the leaf village gets an explanation for why I swapped out some of their cash, and a dangerous potential crime lord gets to be covertly observed by our logistical teams. Everyone wins."

Kakashi nodded, the plan seemed solid enough. "So," he asked calmly. "Who's the target?"

Jiraiya gave the boy a winning smile. "The asshole we'll be targeting today is called Gato. According to intelligence, the guy's been trying to monopolize the shipping industry here for years."

"Okay," said Kakashi. "Seems reasonable. Second question, why are they here?" The boy pointed to the two women, watching the conversation impassively.

"Lady Tsunade's here for a meet and greet," Shizune responded promptly, her gaze not wavering from Kakashi. "I'm here to offer tactical support in case you screw this up."

Kakashi scowled at the girl. "Why would I screw this up, huh?"

The dark haired girl grinned. "I don't know _Maigo._ You've been out of the job for a while, how can I know you haven't gotten rusty?"

Kakashi chuckled. "You know, if you wanted to see me in action, you really only needed to ask me."

Jiraiya chuckled. Tsunade, however, groaned. "Yes, you two, we get it, you both have hormones. You can deal with those later. You have a mission to get through now."

Shizune scowled, shooting Kakashi a put-upon look. "Lady Tsunade never lets me have any fun," she grumbled.

Kakashi grinned. "She's just jealous she's not as young as she was." That hit a nerve, there was a flicker of light in Tsunade's eyes as she glared down at the boy who wisely hastened to hand off the bundled up Naruto before making his exit, Shizune quick on his heels. "Well, I got a mission to get to, see ya."

"Little shit," Tsunade grumbled, watching the two youngsters depart.

"He's not normally like that," Jiraiya said thoughtfully, gazing after them.

"What, bratty?" The blonde woman asked.

"No, happy. First time I've seen him like that for a while."

"…Huh," Tsunade said after considering for a time. "To be honest, I don't think I've seen Shizune like that in a while either."

"Teenagers?" Jiraiya made the single word statement sound like a question.

"Teenagers." Tsunade agreed, shaking her head tiredly. "Come on, Jiraiya, I need a drink."

* * *

The two small shadows moved through the fortified compound in utter silence, blending perfectly with the shifting, bending shapes cast by the flickering light of torches. Once or twice, a few of the guards thought they saw something, only to decide after a moment or two that it was merely a trick of the light. The fact that they noticed anything at all was annoying to Kakashi. The boy knew perfectly well that it had more to do with his soft-colored civilian garb than any decrease in his level of skill, but the close calls were not good for leaving a great first impression with Shizune. Kakashi wasn't sure why, but he had decided he really rather cared about making sure this girl respected him.

Shizune, for her part, was impressive, Kakashi had to admit. She swam through the shadows just as well as he did and, for once, he found he wasn't having to slow himself in order for her to keep up with him, a feat most ANBU squads would have found challenging to perform.

The two found their way to Gato's vault room without incident, silent as the night-time breeze. Kakashi wasted no time opening his pack, watching the door while Shizune worked on the locked vault. If he had found the girl impressive before, Kakashi was downright inspired by the deftness with which she picked the lock, her hands moving with a dexterity born of years upon years of dedicated surgical practice.

One by one, the seconds ticked away, Kakashi watching the entrance in composed silence as Shizune diligently worked. From their initial sweep of the area, the two knew that a guard would round the corner within the next twenty seconds. Eighteen, seventeen.

Shizune had the vault open before Kakashi was down to ten seconds and they were inside before he reached eight, closing the door behind them and leaving it just barely ajar. Two rooms away, the pair heard the thudding sounds of footfalls as the guard passed by, his ineptitude matched only by his noisiness. The two young ninja grinned at one another, sharing a silent joke. _'_ _Civilians.'_

The money was swapped out with ease and speed, neither companion wasting any time as they worked, placing Kakashi's money in among Gato's stash in portions, no more than a few notes in any given place. They stepped back out and closed the vault door behind them in perfect silence. Kakashi shot his momentary partner a grin and made a single hand-signal. _'Race?'_

Shizune nodded, her own smile strangely wolfish, before the two made their way once more out of the compound at speed, neck and neck with one another the whole way.

* * *

Jiraiya and Tsunade had a single objective, be as noticeable as possible, a task at which they were excelling with the utter lack of grace and civility that seemed to define the Sannin. Kakashi and Shizune had been gone for barely half an hour when the fourth bottle of Sake was emptied, neither sage showing any sign of slowing. As was the way between them, Jiraiya and Tsunade were bickering mildly with one another and, as was the way when they drank, the bickering was gradually becoming more and more heated.

Kakashi and Shizune watched their respective teachers balefully from the tavern doorway for several long moments, before glancing momentarily at one another. An agreement was reached in silence, there was no need to return to the others right away. The pair turned and walked away through the bustling nighttime crowd, looking for a café or convenience of some sort where they could grab some food. Kakashi debated furiously with himself whether it would be appropriate to try holding Shizune's hand. The decision was wrested away from him when, after a few minutes indecision, he felt the girl slip her small hand into his own, intertwining her fingers with his gently. Kakashi, having spent most of his life wearing a mask, failed to realize how noticeable it was when he blushed, and so made no effort to hide it, smiling slightly as the two of them walked along. Kakashi was not sure what it was that was helping him feel so light, the presence of a pretty girl, the interaction with someone with whom he actually shared some life experiences, or the chance to utilize his vast array of skills for once. All Kakashi knew was that, for the first time in almost a year and a half, he felt genuinely happy.

The two teens argued good-naturedly about their race as as they walked, hand in hand, down the fog laden street.


	4. Chapter 4: Menma

**AN: Hey guys. Quick shout out to whoever it was that sent in a review that simply read: "I SHIP IT" Thank you for that, that is my new favorite review and my go to example for my newly invented emotion "AngryJoy." Regardless, on with the fic.**

* * *

 **Three years:**

Kakashi watched as the blonde boy ran, grinning, chasing the ball around the small patch of grass and pursued by a gaggle of other children, some of them nearly twice his age. It had been with some pride that Kakashi had realized Menma shared his father's speed, not to mention a measure of his intelligence, even noticeable at this age. Kakashi had been watching the game for nearly fifteen minutes now, and in that time, Menma had been the only child to touch the small ball, keeping it well out of the other children's reach. Kakashi grinned, stepping forwards. "Menma! It's time to go home now!"

The blonde boy glanced up at his older brother, looking just a little crestfallen. "Aww, but Maigo," he whined. "I was winning!"

Kakashi chuckled. "Well, the other kids weren't exactly giving you much of a challenge, were they?"

Menma glanced back at the other children, some of whom were staring, and a couple of whom were glaring at him, clearly angry. He turned back to his brother. "That's not true," he lied. "They nearly got it off me a few times!"

Kakashi snorted at the child's attempt, clever enough to understand jealousy, but not a good enough liar to assuage it. Although, to Menma's credit, one or two of the other children did look just a little placated. "Come on, kiddo," he said with a grin, reaching out and grabbing his ward by the scruff of the neck. "I'd better get you home before dinnertime."

Menma didn't protest when Kakashi picked him up, he wasn't particularly combative by inclination, he merely grumbled quietly as his sibling/guardian carried him away from his playmates, shifting his grip to a piggyback ride after a few steps.

Kakashi considered the boy's growth in silence for a long while as he carried him back towards their current residence, a modest apartment near the center of the small town they had made their home. It was true that Menma was developing well, for a civilian. Half the feats the three year old performed were extraordinary by human standards, but in its own way, that very fact galled Kakashi more than anything else. He wanted the boy to be safe and happy, more than anything else, those were his goals. But surely the boy would be so much safer with the multitude of skills Kakashi could teach him. Menma's speed was a prime example. For a civilian of his age, the boy was faster than one might even consider possible. For a ninja, however, the boy was barely above par, his immense abilities atrophying from a lack of proper training. Kakashi knew that if he didn't act soon, some of that ability might be lost forever. All that potential, just sitting there, right under his nose, about to go to waste.

During Jiraiya's occasional visits to their little family, Kakashi had debated long and hard with him about the benefits of training the boy, weighing up the risks of being discovered, the value to his safety, even the harm that such discipline could lay against Menma's youthful psyche. Jiraiya had been against it, every single time. But Jiraiya wasn't there. Still, too much discipline did pose a concern, he didn't want to stop the boy being able to enjoy his civilian life. Perhaps he could find another way to train him.

Halfway down a small street, Kakashi changed direction, Menma glancing curiously down at him from atop his back. "Big brother? Where are we going?"

"Sports shop," Kakashi replied, his tone businesslike. "We're getting a ball and I'm gonna show you how to play that game properly."

Menma didn't respond immediately, but Kakashi could tell from the minute shift in his weight as he clung to his guardian's back, that he was excited. "Are you faster than the other kids from before?" Menma asked, his quiet voice just the tiniest bit tense, the closest the calm boy ever seemed to come to a genuine thrill.

"Oh yeah." Kakashi grinned. "I'm WAY faster."

* * *

The store clerk was a touch surprised when the grinning teenager came in and purchased three of their sturdiest practice balls, placing an open order for twelve more when they came in. The young store worker was even more surprised when the boy, by all appearances no older than himself, paid not only up front, but in full, casually placing the bills on the counter. Those balls were expensive.

"Do you have a membership system of some kind?" The teen asked, shifting his weight a little to playfully throw the child on his back off balance. "I'm planning on buying quite a lot of equipment here in future."

* * *

Kakashi carried the boy into the woods that bordered the village, their three new tools held casually under one arm. Menma, though clearly confused, remained silent as they moved. After a while, the pair of them came upon a clearing, free of trees and brush, but the ground uneven, littered with branches and small stones. Kakashi set the boy down, handing him one of the balls and taking a few steps back. "Ready?" He asked, a sly smile crossing his face.

Menma looked around, assessing their surroundings closely. "You want to play here?" He asked after a few seconds. "The floor's not level and there's stuff everywhere."

"Guess you'll have to watch where you put your feet then," Kakashi said, smiling. "Is that too difficult for you, Menma? Would you like to play an easier game?" That did it. If nothing else, Menma was competitive. The boy squared his shoulders, placing the ball at his feet and glaring across at his older brother.

"Bring it on."

It took Kakashi a little while to find his rhythm. If he went too fast, the boy wouldn't learn anything. If he went too slow, the kid might win, and his brotherly pride wouldn't allow that. Eventually, Kakashi found his pace, staying constantly just a little way ahead of the boy, always keeping the ball just barely out of reach. Menma's competitive streak ensured that the game went on for hours. Kakashi's vigilance ensured that, in that time, the boy never once got a hand on the ball.

By the time the game finished, the moon hung high in the sky. Kakashi guessed it was probably around ten at night. They must have been playing for five hours, at least. Menma lay on the ground, covered in sweat from his exertion, barely able to move. Kakashi grinned down at the boy, deciding to call it quits for the day. "Sorry buddy," he teased gently. "Looks like you lose today."

With some effort, the panting blonde boy shook his head. "N-no… R-rematch!"

Kakashi chuckled, retrieving the ball and examining it briefly, the thick leather was practically worn through in places. In the one session, their little training bout had near completely destroyed it. "Heh, we both know you can barely move, Menma," he replied, glancing down at his ward. "If you like, we can try again tomorrow. Hopefully you'll be a little faster, eh?"

The three year old glared up at his guardian fiercely. "Tomorrow," he declared through gritted teeth. "Tomorrow I'll win for sure!"

Kakashi laughed at that, amusement at the boy's determination winning through to him. "Sure you will," he teased, picking the boy up gently and carrying him home.

* * *

 **Four years:**

It had taken Jiraiya and Tsunade a few months to forgive Kakashi for choosing to train the boy. Kakashi had borne their anger without complaint, accepting that it was, perhaps, deserved. Regardless, Menma was faster now, his skillset improving by the day as Kakashi trained him in every way he could think of, using dartboards and rock skipping for accuracy training, ballgames for his agility, and good old fashioned brotherly fighting for his taijutsu. Menma had taken to the training like a bird to the sky, he grew and flourished more and more by the day.

Kakashi, surprisingly, had found something of a passion in the culinary arts, and was spending every spare moment teaching himself every recipe he could find.

It was after dinner one night, as he sat watching tv while Kakashi washed up, that the boy had asked him a terrifying question. "Hey, Maigo?" The blonde said, his head swiveling around to look at his older brother.

"Yeah?" Kakashi asked, pausing to look across at his ward. "What is it, buddy?"

"I was just wandering when you were going to ask out big sis Shizune," the boy said innocently. "Uncle Jiraiya said three years, but Auntie Tsunade said four, so when is it?"

Kakashi glowered at the boy. "I swear to god, one day, I'm going to kill those two."

* * *

 **Five years:**

The eighteen year old ran his fingers nervously through his hair. Eyes scanning the entrances to the small apartment. Tsunade had taken Menma off his hands for the evening, shooting him a knowing wink that had turned his face scarlet when she told him Shizune would be by shortly. Kakashi did one last check to ensure he had everything ready. The building was tidy, the table set out, the food bubbling away quietly in its pot on the stove. Kakashi was so focused testing the soup and ensuring it was ready, that he nearly missed Shizune's approach through the window, only noticing her presence when she was already within three feet of him. He threw himself to the ground as her first jab sliced through the air where his shoulder would have been just a few moments ago, scooting sideways on his knees as she launched her foot towards his face. He moved back a little to get some distance, before standing once more, grinning. "Sorry, Shizune, I caught you. We're still tied."

Shizune glowered at him, lips pouting just a little. "Yeah, well one of these days I'll get the drop on you for real, I swear."

Kakashi grinned. "Not if I manage to get the drop on you first," he shot back.

"First time for everything," Shizune replied sweetly, winking. Kakashi went red once again. "So," she gestured at the cook pot and the table, set for two, a single candle lit between the seats. "What's all this for? You expecting a lady to come by or something?"

Kakashi swallowed, clearing his throat as he tried to build up the courage to answer. "Uhh… yes actually, I was… I was kind of hoping you'd j-join me for d-dinner, Shizune." He gestured weakly at the hotpot burning merrily on the stove. "I made your favorite…"

Shizune gazed at him blankly, her expression completely neutral. "What's the occasion?"

Kakashi blanched. "There uh… There isn't one…"

"So then why did you make dinner?"

Kakashi took a breath, steadying himself and building all the courage he could muster. "I… I was kinda hoping we could have sort of a… a date-"

Kakashi had barely gotten the last word out when Shizune tackled him into the wall, causing him to yelp in surprise and fear. She began very, very forcefully pressing her lips to his.

Some hours later, sitting cuddled companionably together on the kitchen floor, the two teenage ninja picked at Kakashi's hotpot, eating it directly from the pot that now sat between their tangled legs.

"Took you five years too bloody long." Shizune muttered, irritated, as she popped a dumpling into her mouth.

"My apologies," Kakashi said, grinning. "Although I promise, if I'd known that was the reception I'd receive, I'd have asked a lot sooner.

Shizune prodded the boy companionably in the side. "The point was that you had to ask before you knew, dummy."

Kakashi speared a piece of pork with a chopstick and shrugged. "Girls make no sense, you know that?"

The two bickered amicably into the night.

* * *

 **AN: Just a quick heads up. At this point, I expect this to be the point at which the story stops being told from Kakashi's perspective and takes on Menma as a main character, Just letting you all know. As before, I would love it if any of you would like to tell me what you think on this one, bye!**


	5. Chapter 5: Uchiha

**AN: This Sentence is here for formatting and for no other purpose. Please enjoy.**

* * *

 **Uchiha:**

"Our philosophies may differ, but I'm proud of you."

Those words from his father were enough to break Itachi. He let out a choked little sob, trying to will the tears not to fall. The effort was pointless, and thin trails of liquid soon ran clear as day down Itachi's cheeks. His hands began to shake, the blade they held rattling loudly between them. Kneeling on the ground, Fugaku Uchiha allowed himself a soft smile as he spoke again. "You truly are a gentle child."

Itachi squeezed his eyes shut, steeling himself as best he could for the killing blow as he forced his sobs to quiet just a little. He raised the blade high in the air, ready to strike.

"Itachi? What are you doing?" Came a small, scared sounding voice from the open doorway. "What's going on?" Itachi's eyes flew open and he spun around, eyes going wide at the sight of his brother. He lowered the sword by instinct, just a little. "I-Itachi," Sasuke mumbled quietly. "Why are you crying?" The plan was failed. Just like that. Sasuke wasn't supposed to see him cry, wasn't meant to see his grief. If he did, how could he be convinced that this was what Itachi had wanted to do? Itachi stood there, frozen, gazing down at his little brother as tears flowed quietly down his face.

"Sasuke," murmured Fugaku quietly, not looking up from where he sat beside his wife. "Go back to your room, child. Everything's going to be okay. Your brother's going to take good care of you, I promise."

"B-but father, I-I'm scared... what's going on?" Sasuke clung to the doorway, fingers gripping the wood tightly to help deal, in some small way, with the fear.

"Please, little one," Mikoto Uchiha spoke up, her words calm and reassuring as they always were as she tried, one last time, to guide her son. "Do as your father says, and remember that we love you very much."

The small boy didn't budge, seemingly frozen to the spot as he stared, wide eyed, at his family, his brother stained in red.

Fugaku let out a small sigh, shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Sasuke." He moved fast, travelling to Sasuke's side without even seeming to cross the intervening space. A hand struck the boy gently in the back of the neck and he sagged, the light fading from his eyes as he dropped limply to the floor. Fugaku caught the boy before he hit the ground, resting him gently on the floor. He then returned quietly to his seat beside Mikoto. "Do it, Itachi," he said quietly. "Do it and take Sasuke far away from here."

Itachi didn't respond at once, his anguished mind trying slowly to work through some sort of a plan; a way to keep Sasuke safe in spite of what he knew. As it was, his father's words took a moment or two to penetrate his psyche. Eventually, he swallowed, hard, raising the blade high once more to strike. He hesitated, trying to will his arm to move, to end this. He didn't budge, motionless but for the shakes that wracked the whole of his body. "I... I don't think I can..." he whispered, his voice broken and small. "Not like this... I-I just can't." His shaking hand slowly lowered the blade, before dropping it to the floor.

Fugaku chuckled slightly, a slight smile touching his lips once again. "I've never known you to fail a mission before." He reprimanded softly.

"I've never had to hurt someone I loved before," Itachi replied, a deep bitterness to his words. "It's... harder. I've failed. I'm sorry."

Mikoto gave a small nod, a smile touching her own face now. "It's alright, Itachi. I'm very proud of you."

Fugaku nodded his agreement. "Indeed. We truly are." His eyes opened once more, glancing up at his son. "But if that's the case, then we need a plan. You say it was Danzo Shimura who forced you to this, yes?"

Itachi nodded, numb.

"And he told you Sasuke's life would be forfeit if you did not comply?"

Again, Itachi nodded, his fists slowly clenching and unclenching at the memory of the bargain he had been forced into.

On the floor, Mikoto and Fugaku turned as one, gazing up at their son, determined. "Then we need you to run," Mikoto said, a hardness to her voice now. "Take Sasuke with you and keep him safe. We can handle Danzo while you're gone."

Fugaku nodded once more to his wife. "She's right. Now that most of the Uchiha are dead, Danzo's objective is done, there can be no further plans of rebellion here. As for Mikoto and I. We are far too much effort for someone like Danzo to kill. He likely sent you because he knew he lacked anyone strong enough to defeat us, so sending someone we would refuse to fight was his best option. As it stands, Danzo has no methods of attack left to him."

Itachi listened to this, absorbing it slowly. He felt the tension in his body begin to melt away, the agony in his mind begin to relax. He sat down opposite his parents and began to plan.

At the coming of dawn, Danzo Shimura received word of the survival of Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha. The eyes of the fallen clansmen had been removed, Itachi and Sasuke were gone, and there was no reliable way of knowing just how much the surviving heads of the Uchiha clan knew. If Danzo had been the sort of man to rage, he would have done so, but he had a policy against such unproductive behaviors. As it was, he sat down quietly, tented his fingers, and began to think.

* * *

 **Six years:**

"So you want me to replace you as Hokage." The words were not a question, but a statement from Fugaku's mouth.

"No other candidates make sense," Sarutobi Hiruzen replied, and began ticking off names on his fingers. "Orochimaru defected, Minato's dead, Danzo's a bastard, Jiraiya's too pure and Tsunade's too brash. As for anyone else in this village who could qualify for it, they're either nearly as old as me or, in cases such as Hiashi Hyuuga, already in charge of powerful clans, which is in itself a conflict of interest." Hiruzen sighed. "It's one of the main reasons you weren't chosen instead of Minato as the fourth. He was too young, and you were too politically powerful." The two men sat alone in the hokage's office, each holding a small cup of green tea in some gesture of formality.

Fugaku nodded, the acknowledgement that this was no longer the case going unspoken between them. "And what are your plans, should I say yes?"

Hiruzen tented his fingers, resting his head on them for a moment in a brief acknowledgment of his near constant exhaustion. "I plan to stop, Fugaku. I want to take some time to be old and tired, as I have been too busy to be either since I put on that damned hat." He gestured dismissively at the red banded headdress of his office, currently leaned against his chair.

Fugaku chuckled, without humor. "We both know you have absolutely no intent to retire just yet. What are you planning, Hiruzen?"

The old man sighed, a weary smile crossing his face. "I'm not lying, Fugaku. I do intend to slow down. Too much more of this and it might kill me." He let out a short laugh. "Ah, wouldn't that just be the perfect end to my story? The great third Hokage, Survivor and commander in the great shinobi wars. Killed by his paperwork in his doddering senility."

Fugaku snickered despite himself. "Seems oddly fitting for you."

Hiruzen shook his head, his expression becoming serious once more, the traces of fatigue once more vanishing from the old man's eyes. "But in all seriousness, you are right. I do have plans. While you're slowly going mad trying to run this country. I plan to spend some time training up your replacement."

Fugaku gazed across at the other man thoughtfully. "Interesting. Anyone in particular?"

Sarutobi Hiruzen shrugged. "I expect I'll manage to find someone talented if I look hard enough. Maybe the academy has some talented young souls to offer. Well, do you accept?"

Fugaku remained silent for a very long few moments, gazing out of the wide window at the cityscape beyond. "Why not?" He said eventually, his voice mild. "I did have just one or two ideas about how to run this place better, come to think of it."

Hiruzen grinned, standing stiffly and picking up the red headdress, before offering it to the Uchiha. "In that regard, I defer to your wisdom, fifth Hokage. As for me, I'm off to go sleep for a few months."


	6. Chapter 6: Haruno

**AN: I can haz formatting sentence?**

* * *

 **Seven years, Shikamaru:**

"Hi there. I'm Sakura, nice to meet you!" The girl held out a hand expectantly.

The boy gazed at it for a long time, cocking an eyebrow at the stranger, before eventually shrugging and grasping the proffered hand, shaking it. "Shikamaru," he muttered quietly, managing to make the one word sound vaguely irritated in and of itself. "Nice to meet you too, I guess."

Without waiting for an invitation, the pink haired girl sat herself down beside the boy on the small bench. The two sat facing the rest of the schoolyard, where their classmates played and fought freely with one another. "So," Sakura asked. "Whatcha doin' all alone over here? Not met anyone to play with yet?"

Shikamaru shrugged, it was as good of a reason as any to give the girl, so he may as well go along with it. "Yeah, I guess so. I have a few friends here, but Choji and Ino are busy making new friends, so I'm just gonna sit here and wait for em."

"Oh, I know Ino!" The girl grinned. "We're best friends! Don't know anyone called Choji, though."

Shikamaru sighed, before raising a hand and pointing out the larger of his two teammates, scuffling good naturedly with the Inuzuka boy.

"Hmm," The girl intoned thoughtfully. "Kinda chubby, but still strong enough to take on Kiba. Guess he's probably in better shape than he looks, then. He's from a ninja clan so I'm guessing the fat serves a purpose. To lull the enemy into a false sense of security maybe? There's no way a ninja family would let a kid get fat if there wasn't a good reason." The girl shrugged.

Shikamaru glanced across at Sakura, fully paying attention to her for the first time that morning. The girl was clever. Her final assessment of Choji was wrong, or, rather, incomplete, but the steps she'd taken to get there were all entirely sensible and well thought out. "Maybe he's just got baby fat." Shikamaru murmured, testing the water.

Almost before the dark haired boy had finished talking, Sakura was shaking her head. "No," she answered, her tone quite firm. "He's been raised as a ninja. If something about a ninja looks like it would be a setback, there's almost always a reason for it. If there wasn't, then the ninja would have an obvious weakness. So I'm thinking it's not a weakness. I think it's some kind of trap."

Shikamaru grinned a little in spite of himself. The girl definitely had a good head on her shoulders. The boy reasoned she'd earned herself a reward. "Yeah, it's a good call. He's from the Akimichi family. They use jutsu that convert their body fat into extra chakra."

Sakura nodded, smiling. "That's really cool, I wish my family had something like that." The two sat in silence for a while, gazing out at the rest of the playgroup.

Eventually, Shikamaru broke the silence between the two. "So then, if you've taken that good of a look at our classmates, who do you think's the coolest so far?"

Sakura giggled a little. "Maybe cool's the wrong word, but right now, I think you're the most interesting one of the bunch."

Shikamaru cocked an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "What makes you say that? I haven't done anything cool or athletic all day."

Sakura shrugged. "It's cuz of this bench, really." The girl chuckled a little at the look the boy gave her, one of mixed confusion and annoyance. "You chose a spot with a good view of every other kid in the class so you could watch them. I think you were doing exactly what I did, assessing your classmates. But I think you're doing it way more seriously than I did. I don't know why you'd do that, and that makes you interesting."

Shikamaru laughed slightly, tenting his fingers to rest his chin on them. "What makes you think I'm not just here cuz I'm lonely and don't have anyone to play with?" The boy made every effort to keep his tone light and casual, but his mind was racing. This girl was perceptive. More than that, though, she was way too smart, almost as smart as him. Was she a plant? One of the ROOT division, perhaps? Most importantly, though, what exactly did this girl want?

Sakura giggled. "Because you do have someone to play with. Isn't that what we're doing right now?"

"Most kids wouldn't call this a game." Shikamaru answered, deadpan.

Sakura shrugged. "Most kids wouldn't understand the rules."

"And you do?"

The girl chuckled. "Probably not. But I think I can learn them well enough."

The boy grinned. "So why come and introduce yourself to me? If you knew I was testing everyone out, why show me how clever you are?"

"To be honest?" Sakura sighed slightly. "It's... it's kinda rare meeting another kid who can keep up with me. I came over cuz I thought we could, I dunno, maybe be friends?"

Shikamaru glanced over at the girl, her face tinted with a hint of hope, perhaps a touch of nervousness. Try as he might, he couldn't really see any deception there. She could be a spy, he reasoned, or even a player from another village, but for the moment, it seemed just as likely that she was just an unusually smart kid, looking for a friend. Either way, best to keep an eye on her. "Sure, we can be friends, if you want."

* * *

 **One month later, Sarutobi Hiruzen.**

"So then, Shikamaru. Have you been keeping an eye on your classmates as I asked?" The old man sat across from the boy, sharing a quiet dinner as they discussed their separate observations.

Shikamaru didn't answer right away, seeming to collect his thoughts for a few moments as he chewed. "I have, and yeah, there's a couple talented ones, sure. Most of them come from powerful families though, you said you wanted someone unattached, right?"

Hiruzen nodded, taking a sip of miso and savoring the taste of it before he responded. "Indeed. My protege preferably needs to be free of political obligations if I am to groom them as Fugaku's successor as Hokage." The old man sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, almost all of the talented ones are from an important family. I've found a few who warrant exploration. A girl named Tenten, who has quite a way with combat tools. A boy named Lee, sloppy at best, but I've never seen a stronger will of fire in anyone his age. Both are promising, but I think they would be better suited to training under a taijutsu specialist than me. I need a little more of an all rounder."

Shikamaru seemed to hesitate for a moment, trying to work towards a decision, before he eventually spoke. "Well, there is one girl. Her practical scores are average, but she isn't bad at anything. There uh... there might be a problem with that, though."

The retired Hokage inclined his head slightly. "There almost always is. What particular issue is there here, then?"

"Well..." The boy began, before stopping short. He tried a few more times to speak, but again, stopped himself. After a minute or so of this, he let out an angry groan. "Look, I know it sounds silly, but when I first met her, I thought she was a spy, okay? She's... clever. Too clever, almost as smart as me, even. I... I thought maybe she was someone from ROOT, or maybe another village sent her. I dunno, it sounds stupid."

Hiruzen leaned back slightly in his chair, gazing calmly down at the boy. "It's not silly, Shikamaru. That does happen. Danzo does keep spies in the academy to monitor goings on. It's one of the reasons why you were informed about ROOT at such an early age. His spies have a tendency to try recruiting people if they think they can get away with it. We warned you because with that Nara brain of yours, Danzo may well have tried taking you for himself. It is unlikely, however, that this girl you mention is a spy. Danzo's current operative within the academy is male, and in his third year. It's rare, although not unheard of, for him to place two of them at once."

The boy didn't react with shock, nor fear as the former Hokage spoke, only tenting his fingers and listening; his brain likely already sifting through the new information. Hiruzen chuckled, the boy was a Nara, through and through. "So what's the name of this girl you've found? I'd rather like to get a look at her."

Shikamaru nodded, his face still in that far away, contemplative state that so often cropped up on Shikaku's face as well. "Sakura... her name's Sakura Haruno. She's clean, as far as I could tell, anyway. Her family's lived here for years and she's been friends with Ino for ages, but I don't know enough about how the ROOT operates to say for sure."

Hiruzen nodded. "It sounds like she's fine. I'll take a look at her myself and make sure, of course, but otherwise, she sounds like a good prospect. I could use someone clever as a student." The two sat in silence for several moments, each thinking quietly while they ate. The silence was broken after a few minutes by a cackle of laughter from Hiruzen, drawing a surprised look from the young Nara. "Goodness," the old man chuckled. "Imagine how terrifying the leaf would be with a Hokage not only supported by a Nara, but also apparently equaling one. I may be about to unleash darkness on the world."

Shikamaru smiled quietly, his eyes taking on a glint of capriciousness as he very pointedly failed to deny the older man's assertion.

* * *

 **Sakura:**

The girl sat in the small office, confused and, to be honest, a little intimidated. It might have felt a little better if Sakura had any clue what exactly was going on, but she had nothing. The moment the small girl had turned up at the academy that morning, a teacher had found her and directed her straight to this office. Had she done something wrong? Was she in trouble?

Quietly, the door behind Sakura opened. The girl turned in her seat to see who it was and, surprisingly, recognized the elderly figure. "L-lord third?" She asked, her confusion growing even deeper. "What's going on? Ha-have I done something wrong, sir?"

The old man chuckled slightly, a surprisingly reassuring sound, coming from him. "Not at all, young one. I simply heard from a young friend of mine that you happened to be rather clever. I wondered if you might like to join me for a game of Shogi or two."

Sakura cocked her head to the side, less threatened, but now even more confused than before. "Uhhh, Shogi, sir? I umm... I kinda have class to go to."

"Ah, a devoted student," the former Hokage murmured. "That's good to know. I promise, you won't get in trouble for missing class. This is a rather important game, after all."

Sakura absorbed what the old man was saying, compared it with her current understanding of the situation, tried to come up with a solution for her confusion, and failed. "Umm..." She started, not entirely sure how to go about this. "F-forgive me, sir, but I have absolutely no idea what's going on here."

The old man nodded, still smiling that serene smile. "Not to worry, little one. It's all very straightforward. I'm here to see how smart you are. If I think you're smart enough for what I have in mind, I will tell you why I'm testing you. If not, then I will tell you a very convincing lie, because I don't want you to go thinking I judged you to be stupid. Shall we begin, then?" Sarutobi Hiruzen stepped around the small desk at which Sakura sat, pulling a small Shogi board from under his arm. "Well then, would you like to go first?"

* * *

 **AN: Hey guys, hope you liked that. As always, feel free to comment or review if you feel there was something you either liked or disliked in the chapter that is worthy of mention. Also feel free to shoot me your ideas about how this story might go. I like taking a look at other people's ideas and sometimes, I even put them in the story. Till next time. Bye!**


	7. Chapter 7: Ramen

**AN: Okay. I said about three chapters ago that I was expecting the story to start being told from Menma's perspective. But then I realized I still needed to do establishing chapters for Sasuke, Sakura and Shikamaru's situations. This, however, is what I was planning on doing back then. So I guess NOW is probably the point where the story takes on Menma's perspective, with occasional shifts to other people so we can see what's going on in a bunch of places. That said, let's do this!**

* * *

 **Eight years, Menma:**

"A ramen shop? Why do you want to open a ramen shop, Maigo?" The boy looked up at his brother, curious.

Maigo shrugged. "Dunno, it just sounds fun. I like cooking and people like ramen, so that seems like a good fit." As he spoke, Maigo drew his arm back a little, poising himself, before swiping forwards once again, releasing the pebble in his hand and throwing it out across the pond. The rock hit the water about half way across, and bounced, hitting the water again near the edge before taking to the air a final time and embedding itself in the target set up on the bank. The rock struck the target dead centre, and Maigo grinned down at his brother, challenging him to do better.

Menma nodded, conceding the point. "Okay, yeah, a ramen shop does sound kinda fun, but why do we need to work all of a sudden? Are we running out of money or something?" He set his sights on the target across the pond, taking a moment to figure out the most impressive shot he could manage with the ammunition he'd found. After a few moments, he selected two of his pebbles, sending the first skipping across the pond in a neat little arc, before launching the second to intercept it, significantly faster. The bottom of the second stone collided with the top of the first just as it came upwards from the water's surface, absorbing the lion's share of it's upward momentum and sending it plunging into the water. The two watched as the second pebble struck the target dead center, never having touched the surface of the pond. Menma shot his brother a winning smile.

Maigo chuckled. "Hah, nice shot, but not even close to winning yet, little man." Maigo fished a pebble from his pocket, before dropping it down onto his foot. "And no, the amount of money we have, we could keep going like this forever. But people might start thinking it's kinda weird that we have so much money if they never see us earning anything, won't they?" As he spoke, Maigo swept his foot out to the side in a sweeping kick, sending the little pebble rocketing out across the water's surface. The little rock struck the water once, it's trajectory wide off course of the target, before it hit a tree. The little rock clattered off the tree's bark, sailing through the air until it came to land, a few inches from the target. Maigo swore angrily under his breath.

Menma considered this for a moment, taking the time to figure out his next shot. "Well, why does it matter if people think we're weird?" He asked, sending a stone skittering across the water in a tricky little maneuver he'd been trying to master for ages. The shot went slightly wide, striking the corner of the target and bouncing off. Menma grunted in irritation, before returning his attention to his brother. "It's not as if we have anything to hide. Right, Maigo?"

The young man hesitated for the briefest moment, before shrugging. "Of course not," he said, sounding strangely annoyed. "I just don't like it when people get nosy, ok?" He sent a rock whistling through the air with an unnecessary amount of force, the pebble arcing straight through the air and striking the center of the target with a crack of splintering wood.

Menma glanced at his brother, confused. "...You broke the target and you didn't even do a trick shot. What's wrong?"

Maigo let out an aggravated groan. "Look, it's nothing you need to worry about, okay? Just... I'll tell you when you're older."

Menma felt a flush of anger building up in him. He hated it when Maigo just clammed up about stuff, but it never did him any good to pursue the matter, and it only upset his brother when he tried. "Yeah," the boy muttered glumly, dropping the last of his pebbles on the bank and turning to begin the long trudge back home. "Whatever." As he made his way out of the clearing, Menma thought he might have heard Maigo begin to speak, before stopping himself. The boy kept walking, ignoring him.

* * *

 **Ten Years, The Wave village.**

The pale boy stood silently behind his master, arms behind his back, his blades at the ready. Their client, Gato, was a short man, portly, with the stylings of a mobster. The boy may have found the man's aesthetic amusing, or perhaps merely quaint, had he allowed his focus to sway from observing the room at large.

"So then," The boy's master spoke, his gravelly voice unusually quiet in the darkened room. "You have someone you want dead, I take it?"

The client chuckled, startlingly calm in their presence. "Not one for idle chat, are you? Yes, I have someone I want dead. A group of someones, in fact."

The boy and his master were quiet, each letting the client's statement hang in the air. Gato clearly wanted them to ask for elaboration, neither did so.

After a silence that may, to some, have seemed awkward, the client cleared his throat, before continuing. "I have been trying to track this person for a decade now, with no success. Ten years ago, someone placed a large quantity of marked, hidden leaf village currency in among my personal funds. The leaf village has been tracking my transactions closely ever since, a fact that has caused no small degree of hindrance to my plans for the growth of my business. I want you to figure out who placed that money, track them down, and kill not only them, but everyone they care about. Am I understood?"

The boy's master sighed. "I do not enjoy detective work. You will be paying me extra for this. Am I understood?"

The client nodded, seemingly slightly annoyed. "Yes, yes. Whatever it takes. Just see them all dead, understood?"

"Yes."

"Good," Gato murmured, smiling slightly. "My assistant will show you what information we have on this. That is all."

The boy's master inclined his head almost imperceptibly, before turning to leave. "It will be done. Come, Haku."

The boy gave the room one more quick sweep, before turning to follow on his master's heels. "Yes, master Zabuza."

* * *

 **Two weeks later, Haku:**

The ramen shop was a modest affair. A polished wooden counter separated the modest looking kitchen from a few worn wooden stools that sat in the meager shelter offered by a short timber partition to either side. All in all, it was nothing short of entirely average. The two assassins stepped inside, Zabuza having to stoop slightly to avoid banging his head on the low timber ceiling.

"Evening!" A man's voice greeted them, a lean figure stepping out from the small room behind the kitchen. "What can I get for you both today?"

"Chashu ramen," Zabuza answered quietly, "A couple of eggs, too."

Haku shrugged as both his master and their target turned to glance at him. "Some fried tofu miso, please."

The target grinned, nodding, before turning his head slightly and calling into the back room. "Hey, Menma! Did you catch all that?"

"Yeah," a young sounding voice replied. "Fried tofu and Chashu pork coming up."

Haku felt his heart sink a little. Whoever that kid back there was, he knew they would have to die too. Haku hated it when they had to kill kids. Regardless, he didn't allow his discomfort to show on his face, simply taking a seat beside his master while they waited for their food.

"So," The target murmured as he started preparing the noodles, shifting pans and utensils from station to station. "Don't think I've seen you two around here before. You new in town?"

"Just passing through," master Zabuza replied, giving a small grunt of thanks as the man passed them both a small bowl of soup to eat while they waited. "We don't plan to be here for more than a few days."

The target nodded in polite interest as he began shaking out a large portion of thin noodles, draining the water from them before adding them to a thick broth. "So I take it you're here on business, then. Anything interesting?"

"You could say so," Zabuza replied casually. "Were here trying to find someone, our employer wants a word with them."

"Oh yeah?" The chef replied, setting two bowls of broth on the counter and turning briefly to call again into the back room. "Menma, where are those toppings?" He turned back to Zabuza with an apologetic smile, "Sorry, he's a little slow."

"I am, am I?" Asked the young voice as a blonde boy, perhaps a year or two younger than Haku, stepped out into the bar, two small dishes in hand. He stepped forwards, depositing the toppings into their respective bowls.

The target grinned at him, before once again turning his attention to their customers. "So, you're looking for someone? Anyone I might know?"

"Maybe," master Zabuza replied as he and Haku gratefully took their food and began to eat. "Wow, this is good ramen." The target nodded appreciatively at the compliment. "Her name's Shizune Kato, ever heard of her?"

With that one phrase, the tone in the small room shifted ever so slightly. The target leaned back against a cupboard, crossing his arms. The blonde boy, for his part, looked slightly confused. "And why would your employer be looking for my girlfriend?" While the man's tone was still polite, there was the slightest undercurrent to it. A threat. Haku genuinely pitied this man, some poor ramen shop owner who thought he could stand up to master Zabuza. He pitied the boy even more, however. The kid clearly had no idea what was going on.

"Umm, Maigo?" The kid asked uncertainly, tugging at the chef's sleeve for attention. "Is something wrong? You seem kinda tense all of a sudden."

"Everything's fine, Menma," the cook replied calmly. "I'm just having a polite conversation with our customer here." The boy didn't seem to buy it, but fell silent regardless. Haku was going to hate killing this one. He was far too innocent. Haku took another bite of his tofu.

"As I understand it," Zabuza replied, his tone still casual as he took another slurp of his noodles. "Your girlfriend made a very poor decision and wronged a very powerful man. I'm afraid my employer expects payment in full."

The blonde boy was staring at Zabuza, the first inklings of fear beginning to show in his eyes. Haku looked away, the sight of the boy's trepidation a little too painful for him, and turned his focus to the cook. The man was holding together surprisingly well against intimidation, even if it was fairly mild. The cook chuckled slightly, shifting his weight against the counter. "Well good luck with that," he murmured. "I'm afraid my girlfriend's pretty good at taking care of herself. I don't think you'll find her unless she wants to be found."

"So I've heard," Zabuza said with a chuckle, taking one final bite of pork before setting his bowl aside. "Which is why I think it's best if we have a little bait to lure her in with."

That was his cue, Haku knew. Quick as a flash, before either civilian could have even had time to react, he swept his arm out in a wide arc, releasing two of the long, sharp needles he kept concealed beneath his long sleeves. Each needle was aimed perfectly, so as to paralyze their two unfortunate victims. Haku closed his eyes at the last second, unable to bring himself to watch the needles strike home.

He waited a moment, his eyes shut tight, awaiting the sound of the two bodies striking the floor. One second. Two seconds. Nothing. Haku opened his eyes.

Both targets were still standing, exactly where they had been. The older man seemed unfazed. The boy, however, now looked genuinely frightened. Between his fingers, Haku noted, the blonde was holding two thin, razor sharp needles.

"Maigo," The boy muttered, his tone dripping with fear. "What's going on?"

Haku stared, stunned. Had that boy caught his needles? How? He was a civillian! That should have been impossible even for a trained ninja. How were these two still standing?

The chef let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Menma, I'll explain everything later. Right now, I need you to run. I can handle this, I promise."

The boy looked quickly between the chef and their two assailants, his face pale, before, with a small nod, he bolted, vaulting the counter in a flash. Master Zabuza moved to intercept the boy, reaching out to grab his wrist, but found his own wrist held tight by the chef. Haku blinked. He hadn't even seen the man move.

the blonde boy landed on the other side of the counter, planting his feet between Zabuza and Haku, and began to run. Dear god he was fast.

"Haku," Zabuza spoke, not turning his eyes from the chef, the man's hand still clamped around his wrist. "You know what to do."

Haku didn't bother nodding, it would only waste time. He gave chase, following the blonde boy as he ran. The kid was fast. Haku was faster.

* * *

 **AN: Yay! Fight scenes! I think you guys know the drill by now. If you liked what you read, please shoot me a review cuz it makes me feel nice about myself. I kinda measure the quality of my stories by the quantity of my reviews.**


	8. Chapter 8: Negotiation

**AN: Believe it or not, I'm walking on air! (Formatting sentence :3)**

* * *

 **Haku:**

The young assassin cornered the blond boy in a small side alley, darting in front of him as he tried to run past it and shepherding him inside. Best to do this out of the open. The boy quivered slightly with fear, eyes wide and face pale as he backed away, his gaze fixed on his assailant. Haku felt another pang of guilt as he took in the fear written oh so clearly on the younger boy's face.

"Look," Haku sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm really sorry about this. I just wanted you to know that. If... if you want to take a moment... Try and make peace with it all or something. I'll give you a second." The blond boy didn't speak immediately, his eyes still fixed to Haku's face. After a few tense moments, the boy nodded shakily.

"O-okay... o-one second." With that, the boy stooped down, tugging at the leggings of his pants.

Haku cocked his head slightly, surprised. "What are you doing?"

"R-removing my t-t-training weights," the boy stuttered back. "I-if I'm g-gonna die... I'd r-rather go down swinging."

Haku sighed, giving the smallest of nods. He could respect that. "Very well. I suppose I can give you that much."

After a few moments, the younger boy stood, laying the bands of weighted material down gently on either side of himself. The young fry cook gave one or two little skips to loosen himself up, before raising his hands in a rudimentary boxing stance. Haku almost smiled at the quaint display. He would make it quick, he decided. It was the very least he could do. Once the boy was ready, Haku charged.

* * *

 **Zabuza:**

The two men stood utterly still, staring across the counter-top at one another in an eerie sort of stalemate. Zabuza frowned, confused. The chef, for his part, was scowling angrily, still holding the assassins wrist.

Zabuza moved first, his free hand dropping to the pouch at his waist and producing a kunai. Quick as a flash, he brought the blade forwards, directing it towards his surprise opponent's throat with all the speed he could muster.

The blade barely made it to the edge of the wooden counter-top before the target gave his response, so fast that Zabuza barely even saw him move. Before he had time to react in any way other than to steel his mind to the pain, the chef moved his free in one smooth motion, plucking a disposable chopstick from one of the customer utensil boxes and driving it cleanly through Zabuza's wrist and into the solid wood of the counter. Zabuza blinked. This guy, whoever the hell he was, hadn't even broken eye contact.

"Who in the blazes are you, fry cook?" The mercenary asked, his voice low.

The cook let out an angry sigh. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked to keep the ninja world away from that boy?" He asked, jerking a thumb after the two long departed children. "And because of you-" he reached out to grab a second chopstick. "You ruined all of it, just like that." The cook gave Zabuza a calm look, too calm, before driving the chopstick down through his other wrist, pinning him to the table. "So I think it's best we have a talk about what happens next." The brown haired man let go of Zabuza's arm, moving around the counter and taking a seat beside the pinned man. "And for the record, I'm not a fry cook. I'm a ramen chef."

"Hmph," Zabuza grunted, only mildly impressed. "Well don't you have a flair for drama. But fine, let's talk." Gritting his teeth, the assassin pulled his left arm up away from the table, the cheap wood of the chopstick leaving splinters and bits embedded in his arm as it slid through his flesh. The moment Zabuza had his arm free, the chef moved again, driving a third chopstick down through that same wrist. Zabuza sighed, turning an irritated stare towards the target. "Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" He asked calmly.

"A lot more than you're letting on, I hope," the cook replied icily. "You just attempted the murder of my younger brother and let out a secret I've been keeping from him for ten god damn years."

"What secret?" Zabuza asked, mildly curious. "Not that it matters. My apprentice will have killed him by now."

"I doubt it," The chef murmured angrily. "That's the secret, see. That boy has no idea how strong he is."

* * *

 **Haku:**

One punch, Haku decided. He'd let the boy throw a single punch before he ended him. The blond wanted to go down swinging, Haku would allow that. He brought one of his hands upwards towards the boy in a single, swift strike. He made sure not to slow the blow too much. The boy had shown he was fast enough and Haku didn't want him to die knowing his foe was going easy on him. The boy would dodge the attack, move to counter, and then Haku would kill him. A single needle through the eye, the fastest death he could offer.

Haku's needle drew in close, moving within an inch of the young cook, before he vanished. Haku's hand passed through the space he had once occupied without meeting any resistance. The dark haired boy tensed, eyes roaming in every direction as he tried in vain to locate the invisible boy. Was it a trick? Some kind of jutsu?

The fist struck Haku in the back of the shoulder, poorly delivered, but lightning fast. Haku stumbled forwards a little with the force of it, righting himself and wheeling around to face the boy who now stood behind him. Haku gaped at the boy. It was a contradiction, and a nonsensical one. How could this boy be so fast, and yet still be using such a sloppy fighting stance? How could he snag projectiles out of the air mid-flight, and yet still not even know how to throw a decent punch?

The two young fighters gazed at one another. Haku perplexed, the boy still scared. "What the hell is with you people?" Was all Haku could think to say.

The blond boy, for his part, stepped forward, moving in to fight once more.

* * *

 **Zabuza:**

Zabuza laughed quietly. "Do you honestly think some ten year old can hold his own against a trained assassin?"

"Do you wanna know why I'm so fast?" The chef asked, his voice carefully composed. "It's because I've been training my speed, and nothing else, for five years now. In all that time, I haven't learned a single jutsu or technique. I haven't had time. Every spare moment goes to getting faster. Wanna know why?"

"... Why?" Zabuza asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity in spite of himself.

"Because if I don't, give it everything I have just to get faster," the young man replied, scowling. "That little brat will get faster than me. As his older brother and his teacher, that's something I just can't tolerate."

"Are you saying he's nearly as fast as you?" Zabuza asked with a snort. "Don't delude yourself, no ten year old is that good. My Haku's the fastest kid of his age I've ever seen, and even he's got nothing on me, let alone you. Your little brat can't be that fast."

The chef chuckled. "Well, shall we wait and see?"

* * *

 **Haku:**

The flurry of blows was simple, sloppy, and almost aggravatingly direct. It was much to Haku's chagrin, therefore, that each and every one of them connected. He fell back, stumbled, and regained his footing, sizing up his opponent carefully.

"Okay, seriously," he muttered, irritated. "Are you trolling me?"

"Trolling you?" The blond boy asked, surprised. "What are you talking about? I'm fighting for my life here. I'm the one being trolled."

That statement confused Haku a little. He raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?"

"You're a ninja aren't you?" The young cook asked. "You've gotta be better than this. It makes no sense that some random kid could hold his own against you, so why are you toying with me?"

Haku groaned. "Yeah, you're right. I am a ninja, a trained and flawless instrument of death. I'm faster than any civilian on the face of the earth. So that begs the question. Why are you pretending you don't know what you're doing when you're so clearly skilled?"

"What?" The blond asked, his whole head cocking slightly askance. "I'm not pretending anything!"

"That's bull!" Haku shouted, gesturing at the boy's ridiculous fighting stance. "Look how you're holding yourself! That stance makes it look like you've never been in a fight in your life and yet you're fast enough that you have to have been training in combat for years!"

"Hey!" The young cook protested, his lower lip pouting out impetuously. "I have too been in fights! I used to fight with my brother all the time!"

Haku ignored him. "Do you honestly expect me to believe you're a civilian with that ridiculous level of speed?"

"Do you really expect me to believe you're a ninja when you're THAT SLOW?!" The other boy shot back.

"I AM NOT SLOW!" Haku shouted, nettled.

"Then prove it!" The blond boy replied.

With a tortured yell full to the brim with pent up frustration, Haku charged.

* * *

 **Zabuza:**

"You know," the cook murmured. "We might as well have something to drink while we wait. You want some sake?"

"Yeah," Zabuza shrugged, pulling a hand free from the table once more. "Why not."

* * *

 **AN: Poor boys have no idea what's going on.**


	9. Chapter 9: Defeat

**AN: I've got the magic in me! Every time I touch that track, it turns into gold! When I hit the flow, the girls come snapping at me! (Formatting!)**

* * *

 **Menma:**

"Will. You. Just. Hold. STILL!?" The pale boy roared, each word punctuated by another fierce swipe with his needles. Menma allowed himself to sway neatly out of each of their paths, one eyebrow cocked slightly in ever mounting confusion.

"Is this really all you have?" He asked, stepping forwards to launch a flurry of punches, each of which caught his opponent squarely in the shoulders. "I'm sorry, 'Mr Assassin,' but to be honest, I'm having a little trouble taking you seriously here."

The dark haired assailant fell back from the strikes, his eyes twitching slightly in virtually inarticulate frustration.

"Alright, that's it!" He shouted, his hands moving together rapidly in a series of complex looking motions. "I didn't want to do this to you, but I'm ending this! Crystal Ice mirrors!"

* * *

 **Zabuza:**

"-And they didn't even have someone guarding the vault!" The cook exclaimed, downing another gulp of Sake. "Can you believe that? Who doesn't even post guards at their own vault?!"

"I know," Zabuza chuckled, taking a swig from his cup. "Civilians, man. Just when you think they can't get any stupider, they do. Still, it annoys me knowing I'm working for that much of an idiot."

"Well, I was meaning to mention that," The chef replied, moving to re fill their cups. "Now, obviously, I can't have you killing me or my brother. But I also don't really want to have to kill you myself. But I have a feeling that if I let you go, you'll just keep on trying to get to us one way or another." He paused for a moment as Zabuza nodded. "So how about you just hold off for a day or two while I go kill Gato, and I'll pay you a little bit for your troubles. Sound good?"

"Pay me?" Zabuza laughed. "What with? No offense, my friend, but you run a ramen stand. I don't think you can afford me."

"I think we've both established that I have more held back than I let on," The chef chuckled. "That goes for money too."

"Good point," Zabuza agreed, mildly. "There's also the fact that when my apprentice gets back from killing your brother, I'm fairly sure the two of us will be able to take you."

Again, the chef laughed slightly.

"Well then, how about this," he answered with a grin. "If your apprentice somehow manages to beat my brother, I die. If my brother wins, however, we go with my plan, hmm?"

* * *

 **Haku:**

"Okay," the blond boy murmured, confused. "So, you can make a circle of ice mirrors, and that's really cool and all. Like, I am actively astounded that you apparently have magic powers. But how do they help you kill me?"

"They're my ultimate weapon!" Haku screeched, furious. "No one can survive when they're inside the circle!"

"But I'm not inside the circle." The young cook replied, deadpan. "I got out of the circle the moment I saw them forming." He made a little gesture with his hands, as if to add 'Obviously.'

"I noticed!" Haku shouted, aggravated beyond belief.

"So then how do the mirrors help you exactly?" The boy asked, still sounding very confused.

Haku gave no verbal reply. No understandable one at least. He stepped into one of his mirrors and used it to launch himself at the boy as fast as he could, the buildings around him shifting into a blur of sheer motion as he fired himself at the blonde with all his might, yelling all the way.

* * *

 **Zabuza:**

"Is it just me," Zabuza murmured. "Or is this kinda taking too long? Haku should have finished the job in sec-"

"Maigo," a youthful voice sounded out from behind the two. "Can you please explain to me why we're being attacked by frigging wizards?"

Zabuza turned, catching sight of the young cook, now looking slightly disheveled, Haku's limp form draped over his shoulder. He took a moment to absorb the surprise of seeing his protege defeated by a civilian, before asking the next obvious question.

"Wizards?"

The blonde boy gave Zabuza a slightly fearful glance, before returning his attention to his caretaker.

"H-he was attacking me with ice, Maigo. Magic ice. Who are they and why are they attacking us?" In spite of the fear still evident in his tone, the boy's face was determined.

Zabuza, for his part, returned his gaze to the chef.

"Are you kidding me?" He murmured in a low voice. "Are you telling me this kid doesn't even know about chakra? Your brother beat Haku without even knowing what a Jutsu is?"

The chef gave Zabuza a small smile and shrugged, before giving the frightened boy his reply.

"It's nothing to worry about, Menma. We've had a little talk and they aren't gonna bother us anymore." The boy, Menma, opened his mouth to speak, but the chef overrode him. "I know you have questions, and I'm sorry for not answering them, but I need to speak to your uncle before I know what it's okay to tell you. Now then, I'm gonna be gone for a few days. Turns out I have some old business to deal with. There's food money behind the fridge, try not to get in trouble."

With that, the chef departed, seeming almost to vanish from his seat in a flash.

Zabuza stood, turning towards the blond boy with a sigh. The kid looked almost as if he was about to cry. He took a step forward.

"Hey, kid," he spoke slowly. "I'll take my apprentice back now, if you don't mind." Zabuza stooped slightly, carefully prying Haku's limp form out of the boy's grip. Without another word, he began to walk away, leaving the blond boy alone in the darkened street.

"H-hey," the boy called after him, his voice a little shaky. "M-mister... p-please... can you tell me what I am?"

Zabuza stopped, standing still for a few moments in the evening darkness, before letting out a single grim chuckle.

"Kid, I have no god damn idea."

* * *

 **Menma:**

The boy gazed blankly at the television screen, not really seeing it. He'd put on the movie more out of a vain attempt to distract himself than out of any real interest. The distraction wasn't working.

It had been two days since Maigo had left with barely more than a word of explanation. Menma wasn't sure whether he was more frustrated or furious with him. Adding to that, Menma was terrified. For the last two nights, he hadn't even been able to sleep, too scared of hidden attackers striking in the dead of night.

Menma had gone outside precisely once in the last few days, and even that had only been a quick grocery run. He had been too scared to linger. Menma clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap reflexively, trying to force himself to calm down. It wasn't working. Not even a little.

The sound of a knock on the door made Menma practically jump out of his skin. He stood, fumbling with the television remote for seconds more than was necessary, before finally managing to switch the television off. He moved to the door cautiously, far too nervous for his own good. He gulped, trying to figure out how to approach the situation, before eventually opting to press himself flat against the wall beside the door in the hopes of giving himself some cover.

"W-who is it?" He asked quietly, his voice trembling.

There was silence for a few moments, the question hanging in the air. Menma began to think that perhaps he had asked too quietly, and was about to ask again when.

"It's Haku," a quiet, slightly feminine voice replied through the door. "The uh... the assassin."

* * *

 **Haku:**

Haku waited by the door for a few moments, his response going unanswered, before he spoke again.

"Can I come in?"

"Hang on!" The blond boy's voice replied in a terrified squeak. "I-I'm j-just finding keys."

Mildly suspicious, Haku stooped slightly, pressing his eye to the keyhole and glancing through. Haku grinned, suppressing a small chuckle. Moving in near total silence, Menma was racing around the inside of the small apartment, a small satchel in one hand that he was rapidly filling with as many potentially useful little knick knacks that he could fit inside it. Was he trying to build a survival pack? Haku let out a stifled little giggle. The silly boy should have had a pack ready days ago if he planned to make a run for it. How was someone so upsettingly powerful still so adorably naive?

Haku stood, producing a pair of slim needles from his sleeves and sliding them into the keyhole with ease. A few seconds work, and the door gave a little click. He turned the handle and let it swing open, standing in the doorway.

Menma stared at him, half way through trying to shove a bread loaf into his little satchel. His eyes were wide, his mouth a thin line of fear.

"Bit of advice," Haku murmured, smiling slightly. "Never waste time packing food when you're rushing. It's easier to be hungry than to be captured."

The blond boy gulped, his eyes darting around the small room in search of a way out as he slowly backed away.

"I-I'll k-keep that in mind," the boy whispered.

"Why are you so scared?" Haku asked, folding his arms a little and leaning against the doorway. "There's no reason to be."

The boy's response came as a hysterical little giggle.

"A-are you kidding?" He asked, his whole body tensing. "Y-you tried to kill me last time!"

"I failed to kill you last time," Haku pointed out calmly, the memory only mildly daunting in hindsight. "You beat me easily, why so scared?"

"M-magic powers," the boy answered simply. "M-maybe I got lucky last time, maybe you were holding back. I-I don't have any way to know and you have m-magic ice powers on top of all that!"

Haku inclined his head, conceding the point.

"That's fair," he murmured. "I guess since you don't know a thing about jutsu, it's safest to assume I could do anything, huh? But still, you weren't this scared the other day."

"A-adrenaline," the younger boy replied quietly. "I was too busy fighting to be terrified back then. Now I've had two days to worry and my adrenaline's burnt itself out helping me panic."

Haku sighed slightly, stepping inside and closing the door.

"Look, Menma, I'm not here to kill you," he muttered. "If I was, I wouldn't have used the door, okay? I'd have just blasted the whole apartment with my powers and used the walls as barricades so that you couldn't use your speed to get away. I don't want you dead, I promise."

"T-then what are you here to do?" The boy asked tremulously. "I-I don't have all that much m-money. I-I can g-give you what I h-ha-"

"No," Haku groaned, aggravated, raising a hand to silence the boy. "Nothing like that. It's just..." He broke off, staring at the blond boy for a few quiet moments, trying to sum up his thoughts. "Look, you know that feeling of frustration when you get beaten at something you know you're good at?"

The abrupt change of topic seemed to confuse the boy. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, but nodded, sinking slowly to sit against the opposite wall.

Haku sat as well, a small attempt to put the boy at ease, one arm resting on a knee that he held pressed against his chest. He gazed across at the young cook.

"Well, that feeling is even worse when you're beaten at something you're good at by someone who's doing it wrong," Haku grumbled. "So... I came here cuz I wanted to... give you a few pointers. Maybe teach you how to throw a decent punch."

The blond boy's eyebrow cocked even further at that. He gazed at Haku as if he'd just announced his intent to coat himself in jam.

"But... why would you want to make me stronger?" The boy asked, his voice losing a little of it's shakiness.

Haku sighed, his eyes moving to the floor by his feet, embarrassed.

"Because... because maybe it'll be less embarrassing that you beat me if you actually know how to fight."

* * *

 **AN: Hey guys! As always, I hope you had fun with that. Sorry the update took so long. I've been kinda busy getting my web serial up and running. If you feel like checking it out because you're awesome, you can find it at:**

 **touch web serial . com**

 **Without the spaces. As before, thank you all for reading and feel free to review. Whether good or bad, I try to always take my reviews into account. Till next time!**


	10. Chapter 10: And now it all goes wrong

**AN: I was the knight in shining armor in your movie, put your lips on mine and love the aftertaste! (Formatting sentence!)**

* * *

 **Menma:**

"No, no," Haku murmured patiently, raising a hand to the other boy's fist and shifting the digits slightly. "There, see? You make a fist like that, okay? No wonder it took you so many punches to take me down. You would have had to hold back with every punch just to avoid breaking your own thumbs punching like that."

Menma went slightly pink, his eyes cast to the floor in embarrassment as the other boy helped him once again to readjust his stance.

"... Shut up," he mumbled quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not my fault no one taught me this stuff."

"Yeah yeah," Haku answered with a grin, rolling his eyes. "Poor little Menma never learned to fight. Poor Menma just has to make do with his god like super speed. Poor Menma, I could just cry hearing about it."

Menma flushed a little further at the teasing, but did his best to ignore it.

"Is... is it really that big?" He asked hesitantly. "M-my speed, I mean. Is it really that much bigger than everyone else's?"

"Oh yeah," Haku replied promptly, finishing his corrections to Menma's stance and stepping back, shifting into a battle ready position of his own. "It's massive, Menma. You're at least three times faster than anyone else our age I've ever met. That's just stupidly fast. If you were older, I'd think I somehow managed to run into the Yellow flash or something." As Haku spoke, he began to attack, moving with what he had been quick to reassure Menma really was his full speed. Menma deflected the first few blows with ease, practicing the technique Haku had advised, his eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity.

"Who's the Yellow flash?" He asked, moving in a slow circle around the room as his instructor continued to attack, raining down blows for him to defend against one after another.

"This old ninja legend," Haku replied, shifting stances and beginning to focus on testing Menma's footwork. "Supposedly, the hidden leaf village's fourth Hokage was some kind of superhuman. They said he was so fast that even the best ninja of the day couldn't track his moves. Master Zabuza told me he was so dangerous that back during the last war, the other villages instructed their ninja to flee on sight." Haku shrugged. "Personally, I think it's just one of Master Zabuza's stories. He likes to make things sound more impressive when he's telling me things. Still, though, you reminded me of it."

Menma considered this for a few moments as he shifted with Haku's attacks, a small part of his mind marveling at how much simpler it was to keep his balance with his body spaced like this.

"Still," he said eventually. "It feels really weird thinking everyone's as slow as you say they are. It's like... Okay, what if you woke up one day and found out that everyone else in the world only had one arm. Would you feel cool for being more powerful than them, or would you feel kinda guilty for being the only one who wasn't crippled?"

"Wait," Haku asked, giggling slightly. "You think not having your level of speed makes other people cripples?"

"Well, not exactly," Menma replied, flushing slightly. "But I grew up thinking being fast like this was perfectly normal, so it kinda feels like the whole world is way weaker than it should be. It's... disappointing, I guess."

Haku snorted, shaking his head slightly.

"Menma," he chortled, grinning. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you are SUCH a civilian. You wound up with the biggest competitive advantage I've ever seen, and all you think about it is that you want everyone else to be stronger? That's the perspective of someone who's never been in a fight, Menma."

"What are you talking about?" The blond asked playfully. "I have too been in a fight. There was this super fast ice ninja who tried to kill me one time. It was wild." He stuck out his tongue slightly at the other boy, grinning.

Haku rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah," he snickered. "Laugh it up, blondie." He stepped back, breaking off their bout of combat and stretching slightly. "Now then, I think it's about time we moved on to those chakra exercises I showed you the other day. Have you been practicing them?"

Menma straightened from his fighting stance with a nod. Just as Haku had instructed him, he closed his eyes, placing his hands in front of himself and allowing just the tips of his index fingers to touch. Menma focused, taking one long, deep breath after another as he began to feel for the flow of energy shifting subtly through the whole of his body. As he breathed, he began to divert that flow, energy building slowly on the tips of his touching fingers, before he began to guide it, willing it to follow a single commanding idea.

'Connect.'

Menma slowly drew his hands apart, focusing on the flow of his chakra with all his might. There was silence for a few long moments.

"... Menma," Haku asked quietly from somewhere to the boy's side. "Just... just what the hell are you?"

"What?" Menma asked, his eyes still squeezed shut tightly. "Am... am I doing it?"

"Are you doing it?" Haku repeated, his voice incredulous. "Menma, open your eyes. This is insane."

Cautiously, feeling almost scared of what he was about to see, Menma opened his eyes. He glanced down between his fingers. Stretched between the two digits was a bright, pulsing blue line, hanging loosely towards the ground like a thread of string.

"I... I thought you said this was supposed to take months to master," Menma muttered, confused. "I've only been doing this for a few days, what gives?"

"That's not the issue here." Haku replied breathlessly, his eyes wide and staring as he took in the sight of Menma's chakra thread. "The real question is why does it look like that, Menma? It's supposed to be invisible. Hell, even if I wanted to make it glow like that, I'd have to pump in every shred of chakra I had, and even then it wouldn't shine like that. To make one this strong... You'd need more chakra than master Zabuza. Hell, you'd need more chakra than a village leader. Seriously, Menma, what the hell are you?"

Menma gave a helpless little shrug.

"I wish I knew, Haku," He muttered sadly. "I really do."

* * *

 **Menma:**

The boy sat alone on his bed that evening, a fresh thread of chakra drawn between his fingers to practice. The boy gazed contemplatively down at the glowing line, a thousand little frustrations competing with one another in his head.

"Maigo," he mumbled quietly, trying as best as he could to hold back tears. "What the hell is it you aren't telling me?"

 ** _'Do you really want the answer to that, little one?'_** Whatever had just spoken, its voice was deep and strong, echoing with a sort of rumble that put Menma in mind of mountains quaking in the passing of some colossal thing.

Menma yelped, the little string of chakra breaking apart and dissolving into the air as he jumped off the bed, terrified, his focus completely broken.

"W-who's there?" The boy asked, his voice small and terrified. Remembering his lessons with Haku, he dropped into a fighting stance, his fingers curling into fists by his sides. "S-show yourself!"

 ** _'Now now,'_** the voice answered, a note of mirth filtering through it. _**'Don't panic, young man. I mean you no harm. My question stands, though. Do you really want to know what you are?'**_

Menma swallowed, trying his best to stow the terror welling up inside himself.

"W-who are you?" He asked quietly. "What are you doing here?"

 _ **'What am I doing here?'**_ The titanic voice murmured. No matter how Menma tried to determine its location, his hearing failed him. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. _**'A good question, dear boy, and one that I will certainly answer with time. For now, worry not. You are in no danger from me, little one.'**_

Menma swallowed again, not in the least bit reassured.

"Y-you still haven't answered any of my questions," he whispered. "Who are you? What do you want from me? If you don't mean me any harm, then why not just show yourself?"

 _ **'Show myself?'**_ The voice murmured, a small amusement to its tone. _**'**_ _ **Well, I certainly can, if you want, little one. But once again I ask, are you sure?'**_

"Yes!" Menma yelped without hesitation, trying with all his might to keep his eyes clear from tears of sheer fright.

 _ **'Very well, then,'**_ came the reply immediately. _**'Then I want you to close your eyes, understand me? Close your eyes and try to follow the sound of my voice.'**_

"I am not closing my eyes!" Menma practically shouted, a single tear building up slowly on his eyelid and trickling slowly down his cheek. "Absolutely not!"

 _ **'Calm down, little one,'**_ the voice replied. **_'I am telling you how to find me. The room is empty. You can see that for yourself. Go and sit against the door, if it makes you feel safer. No one will be able to get in then, will they? Then you can just close your eyes, and try to find the sound of my voice.'_**

Tremulously, feeling almost physically ill, Menma stood, his legs shaking slightly with fear as he did what the voice suggested. He sat against the thick wooden door to his room, glancing all around him to be sure, before he finally closed his eyes.

 _ **'Very good, little one,'**_ the voice congratulated him. _**'You are doing very well, I promise. Now, you just need to focus. Feel my voice. Follow it with your mind until you find the source. Okay, little one?'**_

Menma sat still for almost a full minute, his stomach churning in fear and uncertainty, before with a single terrified squeak, he squeezed his eyes closed. Menma tried to search with his mind, as the voice had advised, but his head was a jumble of confusion and panic, and there was nothing even for him to follow. Then, however, the voice began to hum gently, the deep rumble shifting from tone to tone in a melody that Menma could have sworn he recognized. With his eyes closed, the voice was somehow infinitely easier to track. He did as it had advised, shifting his focus within himself as he followed the sound of the voice with his mind.

* * *

 **Menma:**

The boy awoke in what looked like an old tunnel, the walls built of a solid looking red stone, carved into patterns and striations all around him. The floor over which he lay floating was wet, submerged in perhaps a foot of cool, dark green water. Cautiously, the boy stood, noting with a degree of surprise that the water did not cling to him, leaving him completely dry.

 **"Well done, child,"** the voice rang out again, far more present now than it had been in his room. This time, it gave a sense of direction. Menma span to face it, his eyes falling upon a row of thick, solid looking bars that rose from the water covered floor all the way to the unseen ceiling above. The space behind those bars was in shadow, but Menma could tell, something lay hidden within that dark. **"You have made it to my home. Welcome."**

"What do you want from me?" Menma asked, surprised at how much more composed he was managing to sound now, despite his unknown surroundings.

 **"What do I want?"** The thing in the shadows asked. **"I want you to know the truth, little one. If you would like to hear it."**

"W-what truth?" The boy mumbled, trying and failing to pierce the darkness with his eyes.

 **"The truth of who and what you are, little one."** The thing replied. **"Are you not curious? I can tell you everything, if you wish."**

"N-no," Menma shook his head. "Why should I trust you? I don't even know what you are."

 **"A spirit,"** the creature answered, its voice low and quiet. **"One that was sealed inside of your body a long time ago, small one. That is a large part of why you were hidden."**

"Spirit?" Menma shook his head. "No, that's insane. And what do you mean, hidden? Hidden from who?"

 **"It's insane, is it?"** The voice asked with a chuckle. **"Well, I won't deny that, young one, but it is the truth. Would you like me to prove it to you?"** In the depths of the darkness, two massive shapes began to emerge, each one nearly the size of Menma himself. Slowly, the two shapes began to glow, the light growing brighter and stronger, a deep deep red. Menma was almost certain that, were it not for the strange properties of this room, he would have wet himself. They were eyes. Massive, glowing eyes, staring at Menma with an alien focus. He had never been more scared in his life. **"So then,"** the thing spoke, the eyes shifting slightly as some unseen mouth moved beneath them. **"Let's just agree that I am, in fact, a spirit, young one."**

"... W-what do you mean... hidden?" Menma asked, his voice broken. "Hidden from who?"

 **"From people who would use us as a weapon, my child,"** came the reply. **"That is who we are to them. A device of war. Our power is unspeakable, you see."**

Menma nodded, his eyes glistening, too overwhelmed to do anything but listen and believe.

"S-so that's why I'm so powerful?" He asked, his voice catching in his throat. "Because I have you trapped inside me?"

 **"Mostly,"** the entity agreed with a huff of approval. **"I regret to admit that I am not the only source of your powers. Some small credit must, admittedly be given to your parents, little one. Two of the strongest ninja of their time."**

"M-my parents?" Menma asked, his mind grinding to a halt at the thought of them. "Y-you mean... you know who my parents are?"

 **"I do,"** came the reply. **"Would you like me to tell you?"**

Menma nodded, lacking the words to do anything but give his silent consent.

 **"Say please,"** the voice answered. **"This is a favor I do you, and you will respect it as such."**

"P-please..." Menma choked out, struggling with a voice that seemed almost to resist him. "P-please tell me who they are."

 **"... Very well."** The creature was silent for a time, perhaps collecting its thoughts, before it spoke once more. **"Your father's name was Minato Namikaze, a man known throughout the ninja world as the Yellow Flash of the leaf. Your friend Haku spoke of him earlier. Your mother was the previous container the leaf village used to house my power, a living weapon by the name of Kushina Uzumaki."** The voice halted for a few minutes, giving the boy some time to take this all in, before it continued. **"And your name, boy. Your true name, is Naruto. Naruto Namikaze."**

The boy felt his body slump forwards as he fell to his knees, staring at nothing.

"You mean," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "... I-I'm not... my name isn't even Menma?"

 **"In a sense, perhaps,"** the spirit replied, the faintest trace of sympathy to its tone. **"In the same way that humans choose the names of their pets or their slaves when they take them. But that slave name is not who you truly are, Naruto. Do you understand?"**

The boy shook his head, his whole body feeling deadened, his mind numb.

"P-prove it," he muttered quietly, his voice taking on a pleading tone as he found one tiny point of hope. Maybe this was all a lie. "Y-you're a voice in my head. F-for all I know, maybe I've just gone insane and I'm hallucinating all this. Prove to me that you're not just a sick dream I'm having... please."

There was silence for a long while as the thing considered the boy.

 **"I see,"** it rumbled eventually. **"You need proof of my existence, hmm? Very well, young one. Answer me this. If I am a figure of your mind, then it is impossible for me to know things that you do not, correct?"**

The boy nodded, rubbing a forearm against his eyes to clear them. Apparently, wherever this room was, it did not prevent him from crying.

 **"Well then, I shall simply teach you something new. That way you will know for sure that I am as real as you are, child. I shall teach you a jutsu. One that I, through my contact with your mother, have seen your father practice many times. I know the steps to it by rote. Shall we begin?"**

The boy, seeing no other options, simply nodded.

* * *

 **Kyuubi:**

Hidden behind the shadows and darkness, the great fox grinned. This was all going even better than it had planned. With the jutsu taught, the boy would not only be given reason to believe its story, but would be placed in its debt for a gift of power. For the technique the great spirit had in mind, it would doubtless need to perform the majority of the work itself, providing assistance to the boy's output and control, but that was a small concern.

 **"Now then, child, the technique I shall teach you is very powerful. Are you ready?"**

* * *

 **Kakashi:**

The young man finished his business as fast as he could, travelling to the wave and ending Gato's life in only three short days and stopping only to set his entire compound ablaze to obscure his passing. With that done, he wasted no time, heading for the outskirts of the leaf village at his top speed. A few years after Kakashi had taken Menma, he and Jiraiya had set up an emergency communication system, a small box, hidden under the roots of a small tree just outside the invisible barrier that marked the edge of the village's surveillance system. Kakashi knew Jiraiya checked that box by habit every day, as long as he was in the village, at least. Kakashi made his way there at top speed, reaching the drop site in less than a day, and deposited a single, simple message.

'Come now, urgent.'

That done, Kakashi turned around and set of back towards Menma. The round trip took a total of one week.

Kakashi met Jiraiya outside the apartment, the two men greeting one another silently under the dim evening moonlight.

"How bad is it?" Jiraiya asked, his voice calm, carefully controlled.

"I don't know," Kakashi replied simply. "We were attacked. Gato sent an assassination team after us and Menma figured out how capable he was compared to everyone else. He wants answers and we need to figure out what the hell we're gonna tell him."

Jiraiya swore quietly under his breath.

"This is why I didn't want you training him, Maigo, it puts the secret right under his nose."

"If I hadn't trained him, both he and I would be dead right now," Kakashi replied, his voice icy. "Complain about this all you like, but don't pretend for a second that your way was better."

Jiraiya folded his arms, but did not reply. After a few silent minutes, the older man spoke.

"Okay. I've got this. Just follow my lead, okay?"

Kakashi scowled, but nodded.

The two made their way up the wooden steps to the apartment door. It wasn't locked. Glancing briefly at one another, the two shrugged. Then Kakashi opened the door.

The sight that greeted them made both ninja stop dead in their tracks. Menma sat cross legged in the center of the small sitting room, the space cleared of all furniture, leaving the floor-space sparsely covered and empty. In his hands, the boy cradled a small, glowing ball, the palm sized sphere emitting a faint, sky blue glow as thousands of tiny lines of pure power whirled and span beneath its surface. Both men recognized it instantly, and neither knew what to say. Menma turned his head slowly to look up at the two newcomers, his eyes cold and expressionless.

"Hello, Kakashi" the boy said, his voice sounding hollow and deadened. "That's your name, isn't it? Kakashi Hatake."

The two men stared, eyes wide.

"M-menma," Kakashi mumbled, utterly shocked. "H-how did yo-"

"No!" The boy cut him off, suddenly furious. "My name is NOT Menma! You lied about that just like you lied about what I am!"

Kakashi fell silent immediately, not willing to risk setting the boy off.

"... And what are you?" Jiraiya asked quietly. The blond boy gazed up at his godfather, his eyes glistening slightly, and mumbled something too quietly for either man to hear. "Louder," Jiraiya said, in as gentle a voice as he could, stepping closer. "What do you think you are, Menm-"

"No!" The boy interrupted again, shaking his head and covering his ears as Jiraiya spoke the name. "My name is Naruto Namikaze, and I am a weapon!"

* * *

 **AN: I always found the idea of keeping secrets from Naruto/Menma weird because he literally has a key witness to pretty much everything living in his chest.**

 **Okay, that chapter was a bit longer than I often make them, so, either sorry or your welcome, I guess. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Frankly, I only had the idea of this being how the plot would proceed when I sat down and started writing. As I have often said, I don't really have a plan when I write, I just do what feels right for the characters in question. This kinda means that before I start writing, I can only really estimate what's going to happen in my chapters. So... yeah.**

 **Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and, as always, feel free to review.**

 **PS: My web serial novel still exists! I'm planning to update it tomorrow, so check that out if you want at touchwebserial . com**

 **Bye! :P**


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